Neighbours - A Logan Fanfic
by ghosthare22
Summary: A moment just before the meeting of Logan and Professor X, a little bit of history and a happier time remembered.


Neighbours

_Chapter One_

The last box had just been sorted in the small apartment when the sound reached her ears, footsteps ringing along the darkened corridor outside her new door. In daylight the place had looked old fashioned but clean, now at night with the lights not working in the communal hallway it looked threatening and her heart was in her mouth as she realised the door to her apartment was still open. Her boxes were stacked all over the place, most of it was storage from the days of the apartment being used as the building's 'dead box office' whatever the old tenants left behind was dumped here. That is until now, she'd managed to convince the super that she could do a refit job on the small place and leave it in some semblance of normality, but the rent was cheap and the last invasion of cockroaches seemed to have been a while ago if the old traps were to be believed.

The noise came closer and she huddled near the open window just in case, her hand dipped into her crockery box, hand closing over her heavy plates. She might not get much of a chance but she'd make them duck first and she could be out on the fire escape behind her before they'd catch her. Her own dim light spilled into the darkness and she saw a dark shape halt in the corridor for a moment then pass by, the sound of sniffing filling her ears as the footsteps carried on past her open doorway. The weight of the sound making her heart race as they passed by and finally settled at the end of the corridor. The super had told her the names of the other tenants but she'd been absorbed in doing her count of her own boxes when the man she'd hired to move her stuff had been about to leave.

She hadn't settled well to living in the big city, after all it hadn't been her idea to come here. The tears began to prick at her eyes and she swore she wouldn't get into this now, it was a fresh start, a new place, yesterday was yesterday and it didn't help her to get this place ready for living in. She could break down later, now she had work to do and first she'd shut the door and lock it, although everyone on this floor still had a key to her apartment, the super had collected everyone else's. Looking at the small clock she had, sitting on the shelf that was just hanging onto the wall by faith alone, reading the tiny dial as it informed her it was nearly three am.  
Closing the door to the building that was to be her home she wondered how this would work out, in her mind she couldn't see herself going home again. Being lost amongst the bleakness of the moors and the small minds after being here for three years, no she'd make it here. Wiping her dirt covered palm over her skin smudging it with the dust and dirt of the memories around her she just crept onto the small camp cot and let sleep take her. Hoping for some peace in the city, the only sounds she could hear being the railyard behind the building. The singing of the rail pulling her mind into slumber.

"Hey, honey. You're the new girl?" The small woman was holding onto a purple dyed poodle, its teeth long gone and the sickly scent of lily of the valley clung to every piece of her. She'd been working all morning to get the boxes of other people stacked away from her own small meagre few, her hair was up in a scarf and her face was red from work. Looking the small woman over she quickly smiled and nodded.  
"Yeah I moved in yesterday, is there anything I can do for you?" The little woman hadn't come in but her dog was trying to get down so he could explore the new space that he could scent. Her rheumy eyed gaze met her own and she could see the older woman weighing her up and how to speak to her, to make her into one of 'her' friends before someone else beat her to it.  
"Well I came to give you my key to this place, although if there's anything of mine in here your welcome to it honey. I've got everything I could ever need down the hall and more," her tone was all boasting and she actually preened herself as she said it. "Actually I'm only going to be here for another year at the most, my family are moving down to Florida and they're building me an entire new apartment when they build their own house. A 'granny flat' they called it, hell I'm not old enough to be a granny." Her eyes met her own body and she felt the jealousy coursing through her old frame as she did so, her podgy fingers digging into her pocket to retrieve the key she needed from her.  
"Thanks," the older woman let her fingers linger over her own skin, as if she was testing her hands, the rough cracked skin there were testament to the work she'd put in to get here and the older woman seemed pleased by it.  
"You got a job honey?" The query was one that held possibilities, she hadn't found decent work yet, nothing above day rate anyway. Throwing caution to the wind she bit the bait.  
"Nothing permanent yet, why?"  
"I think I might have a solution to your problems," the crafty smile that covered her face was something like a shark's and she was beginning to form the gentle refusal when she heard the offer. "There's several elderly people in the building, no one as lively as me, not by a long shot." She rearranged the poodle in her arms making it more comfortable for her to keep the small wiggling creature still. "Thing is they don't get out much and they're always harping on at the super to get him to do stuff for them. You know, pick up groceries and such but he ain't as young as he used to be and he don't like the work anyway. They pay him $15 an hour, better than minimum wage but the hours aren't usual, some of em here seem to think he's a dogsbody."

The idea was a valid one, she could do errands, get to know the area as well as her neighbours, plus help out and get the apartment sorted too. Looking at the old woman in front of her in a new light she smiled as she spoke. "Thanks, I'd like to do that if I could. I'm supposed to be renovating this place as well as working so it'll help me out no end if I can." The little woman's face split into a huge grin showing her false teeth with their plastic pink gums. "Great I'll let the super know and he'll drop round the list of tenants and the jobs they want doing. I'm sure Herb will appreciate it although he can be a sour old man if you let him." Deciding to do this job she thought she'd better get some information about her own floor first and waved the older woman inside. "Oh no honey I can't stay, I've got an appointment at the hairdressers downstairs, I'll pop back afterwards if that's okay with you?"  
"Sure, not a problem," she was about to leave her when she looked down the corridor to where the footsteps had gone last night and her face became a little sour.  
"If you want your key off of number eleven you'd better go get it now before he goes again. He's an odd one that one, comes and goes all times of the night and day, he's even been seen with mutants." Her eyes narrowed a little at that admission but quickly came back to her own, open and wide again and a tight smile on her lips. "Not that there's anything wrong with them of course, just that some of the people he's brought here aren't exactly 'clean'." The very words made her own mind go into overdrive as she imagined what the older woman could mean, did she mean women or something else? The question answered itself in her next breath, "He once brought three of them home one night, I can tell you no-one got any sleep that night, mind you no one dare go to tell him to keep it down. He's got a way of looking right through you that one, so I'd be careful but get the key while you can." With that she left the doorway, her little dog finally let onto the tiled floor and running ahead of her as she went down the stairs to her appointment below.

Feeling as if fate had smiled on her she took a quick drink of her tea and wiped her hands before shutting her door and locking it. She might as well tackle the chore of getting the keys back from whoever she could while there was still life on her floor. Several of the tenants were families with youngsters so she wouldn't have much trouble there but number eleven at the end of the corridor seemed to lurk like a spider in it's web. Shaking herself she went to knock on her new neighbours door, hearing Sesame Street playing inside number five. Trying to shift the feeling of being watched as she waited, her eyes going to the door at the end of the corridor and the number painted on it.

Three hours later she knew everyone on her side of the building and she had a small feast in her own apartment waiting for her. Several of her neighbours had been pleased to hear the empty apartment was finally being used and she'd asked them if they had anything they wanted to get from the boxes in her room. Only one had said yes so far and she'd helped to remove the box and take it back to their apartment, the memories stored within it had been shared with her and she'd felt as if she'd belonged for a moment. As if this had been a good idea, that had been until they'd both heard the door at the end of the corridor open and close. The heavy tread had caught her off guard as it passed by and the other tenant had become quiet as they'd passed. The light leaving their eyes for a second and the children becoming impatient for attention and food. She'd left then, making her apologies and leaving them to their dinner.  
She'd returned to her own apartment to find a letter pushed under the door from the super, there was a list of people in the building and a covering letter from him for her to identify her to them. There were over twenty names on the list, at $15 an hour that could make $300 a week, more than enough for her to live on and do the apartment up as she went. Plus with the junk she had in her apartment she could sell it on or do something with it herself. For once it seemed like she'd landed on her feet, especially with the people around her as she looked over the cold dishes of food on her collection of boxes. Most of it was leftovers but it was the thought that counted, breaking out her small radio she turned it to a local station that played light music. Settling herself down she made the effort to eat off a plate and relax before the kitchen was unpacked. Things were going to work out, she could feel it.

Her carpet was down when the poodle woman returned with a beehive hairdo that defied gravity, it was all she could do not to laugh at it but the look of utter joy on her face was one that she daren't take away from her. "What do you think?" Stuck in a quandary she decided to say nothing as the liver spotted hand patted a tress back into place, seeing her struggle she smiled and let her out of it. "I'm going to a fifties revival night tonight, swing club and jive house. Used to be able to do this myself but my hands aren't as nimble as they used to be," her smile lighting up her eyes and making the years drop away from her until she was back as a young teenager again dressed in bobby-sox and satin. "How'd you get on today?"  
"Come in and have a look," the older woman took this as an open invite and released her poodle to the floor of her apartment. Her eyes taking in everything she'd unpacked, noticing her new shelves that she'd found in one of the boxes she'd been allowed to rummage through. It didn't take long to tour round it all, three minutes at the most but she'd cleaned the entire place today, sorted out the small kitchen and put her food away in the tiny refrigerator.  
"Not too bad honey, not bad at all." She straightened herself and stuck out her hand, "Marty Baker." She took the offered hand and shook it smiling, they both knew they were doing things the wrong way round but it didn't matter.  
"Heather, Heather Lloyd."  
"You're not from here are you honey?"  
"No, England. Yorkshire to be precise but it's been a while since I was home."  
"You want to be?" The pain of homesickness flared for a second then faded, as if everything that was good could be bottled and brought with her for a moment without the pain of actually living there. Her answer was honest when she gave it, "No, this is home now. There are worse places to be than here." Marty patted her hand with hers, agreeing with her sentiment as she moved toward the door.  
"I'll catch you later Heather, got a rug to cut and a man to catch." She had the door open and was stood halfway in and halfway out when she turned back to her concern on her face. "Did you get all the keys back today?"  
"No not everyone's, only three left. Number two, six and eleven." At the mention of number eleven Marty's face paled a little.  
"Well you just make sure you get hold of them, the Phillips in apartment 2 usually get back around 8pm. Number 6, well he's out most of the time but he's usually here weekends. Try Sunday morning for him, he likes to read the papers." She almost shut the door behind her when she opened it again her gaze serious, "Make sure you get that key honey, not saying anything against the man personally just that he makes more than one of us nervous." Not knowing how to take it Heather just smiled and thanked Marty. The thoughts about number eleven running around her head until she decided to get on with the bathroom and the tide-mark of doom that was adhered to the enamel coated bath.

Ten pm. rolled around and the heavy tread went past her door again, the floorboards creaking as the occupant of number eleven went by. The sound bringing her attention to the keys she had on her wall, the ones she'd be giving to the super to destroy tomorrow. Gathering her courage Heather brushed down her clothes and went to her door, opening it quickly to dispel the fear she had gathering in her stomach and shoulders. She went down to number two first, knocking politely and hearing voices on the other side and coming face to face with a beautiful african american woman. "Yes can I help you?" Her tone was cultured and urbane, poised and beautiful even in her sweatshirt and jeans.  
"Erm, yes I've just moved into the old storage room down the hall and the super has asked me to collect the old keys from you all on this floor. My names Heather Lloyd, Marty told me when to find you in, I did try you earlier but you were out." The smile she gave her was all brilliance and warmth as she looked into her and seeming to like what she found.  
"Wonderful, I'm glad someone was finally going to be using that space. It has a wonderful view over the river if you try to ignore the train yard in the foreground." Smiling Heather found herself agreeing with the beauty stood in front of her, a deep resonating voice echoed out from the apartment behind her and a large muscular man walked up-to the doorway. Dressed in a towelling robe hair still wet from the shower he held his hand out the stranger at his doorway as he saw his wife smiling, listening to her introduction to her husband by this beauty. His own voice rich and deep as he shook her hand, "Nice to meet you Heather, I'm Stewart and this," he kissed the back of her neck making her giggle, "Is Fred. Is there anything I can do for you?" Seeing the obvious love between them made her own ache intensify for a moment before she managed to squash it back down and concentrate on her purpose.  
"Yes I need the key you had for the storage apartment for the super tomorrow, also if you have anything you want to retrieve from it I'm more than willing to help you move it back." Stewart looked at his wife for a second, leaving her stood in the doorway and returning with a key-fob. He took seconds to remove the key and handed it back to her, the smile still on his face as he turned away to get dressed. Fred spoke to her as he moved away, "If there's anything you want from that lot honey you help yourself, I think if we did have anything in there it's long gone from our memory so do what you feel is best." Heather gave her thanks and moved away from their door, listening to the laughter as she walked away. Knowing someone tonight was being shown how much they were loved by someone else, steeling herself Heather went toward number eleven knowing the tenant was in because there was a light on underneath it.

Breathing deep a couple of times as she approached the door she forced all her nerves down and away from her, he was human, he wasn't a monster. Raising her hand to knock the door swung open quickly surprising her for a moment. The man stood in the doorway was half dressed and he looked as if he'd been on the wrong end of a brawl and come out from the bottom of the pile. Bruising was all over his arms and shoulders, an almost deep blue with hints of purple, his breathing was loud and he looked as if he was about to hit her when he just closed the door on her. Stood in shock she just stayed where she was until the door opened again, this time he had a shirt on but it was still open as if he'd just thrown it on. His almost growl made her look at his face, seeing the barely contained anger there she decided to get this over and done with as soon as possible. "Hi, I've just moved into the storage room down the hall and you have a key I need back," she was halfway through when he pulled out a set of keys and was quickly pulling the key off the fob for her. The hands that were doing the job looked sore and her concern for someone in pain overrode her natural fear. "Are you alright? Do you need a doctor?"  
The words stopped him dead in his tracks, her eyes were held by his for a few seconds and she could almost see the struggle in him to answer her without snapping at her. Looking behind him she could see an almost spartan apartment, there was nothing frivolous in it, no tv, nothing that gave comfort, even the walls were the same colour as her own. He didn't answer her he just took her hand in his and pushed the key into her unresisting palm, closing the door on her just as she began to tell him her name. "My name's Heather, if you need anything out of the apartment just let me know and I'll give it you." The last part of her speech was given to the door and she had the feeling he was still listening to her on the other side of it. "Just let me know okay?" With that she walked away down the corridor her mind replaying the sight of the bare room behind him and the injuries she'd seen on his skin. It looked like she wasn't the only one hiding here and unconsciously she kept an ear for his footsteps over the next few days, her curiosity peaked by his isolation.

_Chapter Two_

The work wasn't too hard, collecting groceries, prescriptions, walking dogs, doing laundry. In her first month she'd earned nearly $800 doing this and her time on the apartment was showing worth, she liked to work with the door open so she could show her work to the people on her floor. She was painting a mural on her wall, a collage and memory piece, a mix of pictures and memories she'd found on her search of the boxes that had been left to her. Playbills and photographs, small children's pictures in crayon and poster paints, her own memories of home the ones she wanted to keep, there were even wartime pictures mixed in with the rest. Pictures of celebrations, women held by men who'd come home from death and were happy to see the familiar. It was a celebration of her time here, a piece of life to remind her of what was possible if you wanted it.

Everyone on her floor was quiet, kept to themselves really if it came to it, Marty made a daily appearance at some point in the day just to see what she'd done to the apartment and they became friends. Marty would share her memories of the building when it had first opened and the struggle she had raising her kids here, finally happy when they went to collage on scholarships. She was everything she showed herself to be, independent, happy and quite single, Marty didn't pry into Heather's life but she knew she was recovering from something, something painful that she didn't want to talk about yet and she waited patiently until she was ready to talk about it.

"So when are you going to go out and spend some of this money your earning hmmm?" Marty always tried to get her to go out, to be young while she still could be but it wasn't who she was, bars held no attraction she didn't drink any more, parks were too dangerous in the evening and the museums were too far away to walk to safely. So she'd opted for reading and the occasional movie at the small theatre down the street, it was enough for her, enough for her to handle at the moment.  
"I do enough, my budgets tight Marty you know that, I still have to take some of this stuff to the junk market on Sunday. See if I can get a few dealers interested in it," she'd been sorting a box out to take around with her when she noticed the feet stood just outside her doorway. Her eyes lifted up to see the tenant of number eleven stood there a blue laundry bag in his grip, he totally ignored Marty and locked his eyes on hers making her stand up. Marty noticed and became quiet, her posture becoming defensive. His voice when he did speak was quite low but soft, not as harsh as she'd come to expect it to be. "You do odd jobs, laundry?" She nodded first before answering him, "Yeah I do, why do you want me to do some for you?" He just dropped the bag at her doorway and pulled out his wallet, waiting for her to tell him how much, he looked surprised when she spoke, "You pay me when it's done, not before. I'll drop a note with it for you later. Will you be back later because I don't want to leave it in the hallway if your not going to be here." He folded his wallet back up and just nodded his assent before walking away and down the stairs leaving them both looking at the dark blue laundry bag resting in the hallway.

Marty was all over the bag until Heather pulled it forcefully from her grip, her face shocked at her boldness, "Marty! What if it were your laundry?" She acquiesced the bag to Heather and she tried to hide her curiosity about what it might contain but Heather made sure to put it with her own. Looking at the size of it Heather made her mind up she'd better get this lot on, there looked to be a few good machines worth at least and if there were coloureds she had to separate them. "Actually I'd better get these on if he's coming home later, can't do to have half a job done when I need every penny." Marty agreed and she left for her bridge date at the social centre, her eyes dropping to the dark blue bag in Heather's hands.  
"Let me know what's in there later, if he's a boxer or briefs man," the smile that crept across her face made Heather blush to her bones making Marty laugh loud as she went down the stairs with her.

The laundry room was warm, it always was which made it a nice place to hole up and lose a couple of hours. Opening the bag she'd been given there were sheets, pillow cases, shirts, jeans, t-shirts, socks and vests, no underwear at all. Mind you even the others she did laundry for were reluctant to give her their underwear at first, it was a trust issue and maybe when he saw what a good job she did of these he'd trust her with them. Marty would have to wait to find out her answer as Heather began sorting the washing out into piles. The whites went into one machine, the colours into another and the blacks another, each pocket was checked and emptied just in case. A couple of ticket stubs for the subway, a parking permit sticker and a piece of metal dulled by touch. Placing them carefully to one side Heather began her work, measuring the right amount of detergent for each wash and setting the machines going. Plucking her book out of her pocket she began to read the quiet swish of the water her only company.  
It was when she was folding the shirts that she noticed the tears in the fabric, they were shallow but they were there. Going through the rest of the clothes she noticed wear holes in socks, the elbows on his shirts that showed his habit of leaning on them. Even the seams of his jeans were old and the bottoms frayed at the back, they were soft and well worn. No amount of designers could replicate wear this even and personal, these were well loved and well worn. Putting the clean clothes back into the bag Heather made her mind up to repair what she could, the least she could do was fix what the machine had opened up.  
The sewing was neat, small and all her, smiling as she did it thinking that it'd be nice to show him that she did care about her work, that it was important to her that he liked what she'd done. Pressing the shirts and re-packing the now fresh smelling laundry she pinned a note to the top listing her repairs and the charge for the hours spent in the laundry. Dropping it outside his door she got on with her own laundry, the evening already darkening the windows as she went back downstairs.

When she came back up there was an envelope pinned to her door and the bag was missing from outside number eleven, smiling she unpinned it and opened the envelope. Nearly a hundred dollars was in there but she'd only wanted $45, taking her money out of the envelope she re-pinned it to his door and left it there with a thanks written on the front of it and 'Your change' underneath it. He only owed her for the hours not the repairs, he needed the cash as much as she did and she wouldn't take what wasn't owed to her. Pocketing her money as she walked back to her apartment, she didn't hear the door open behind her and the envelope taken down from where she'd put it.

The next morning Marty was there with danish and chai, her face eager to find out what had been in the bag. All Heather had told her was that it had been normal laundry just like everyone else's, nothing special about it. Marty had gone quiet when he'd gone by his eyes flicking into her apartment to look at the wall of memories she'd put up. When he left Heather looked at the small apartment and wondered if she had the budget for a small party, a house warming. Turning to Marty she broached the idea, "Marty what would you say if I said I'm thinking of having a house warming?" Marty instantly grinned.  
"Now that would be a fantastic idea, we could invite the whole floor and you'd get to share the wonders you've done with this place. Maybe it'll get you some more work too if you do, but we'll keep it to this floor first, the place isn't big enough for the whole building." Heather nodded as she drank her chai, picking up a danish she looked over at Marty and gave voice to her thoughts.  
"I'll invite number eleven too, see if he turns up." Marty's eyes went wide at her words and she almost choked on her chai making Heather reach to pat her on the back as she recovered.  
"You sure you want to do that honey?" She looked for a motive on her face but she didn't have one, she wanted him to feel a part of this place and as such she wanted to invite him.  
"Yeah, what's his name? I'll need one for the invite." Marty took a good drink of her chai before answering her.  
"I doubt he'll come but his names Logan as far as I know. That's all that's on his mail anyway according to the super."  
"And you'd know this because….."  
"I helped him out one day and he keeps mail for him sometimes when he's away on long trips. Saw his name on some mail and remembered it. He's a hermit honey, mean and bad tempered if the rumours are to be believed, he hit Doc Sterling on fifth, just punched him out on the stairs no reason at all."  
"Did he press charges?" The thought of him doing violence like that did kind of matched with the impression she had of him but there was something else to the story that didn't fit especially when Marty continued the story.  
"No he never did, but he did transfer from the clinic he'd been working in a couple of months afterword. He does plastic surgery now at the burns unit."  
"What did he do before?" A sense of dread was eating into her stomach as Marty continued.  
"Some research place down at the university, he never did talk about it much. Sheila his wife is very nice, we could invite them if you like?" Heather shook her head quickly her mind giving her images of exactly what the good doctor could have been doing.  
"No I think I'd like to stick to my own floor for now, there's enough people for me to deal with as it is." Marty reached out and squeezed her hand in support, inside she could feel the blocks falling away now, she could break down for a while and maybe this time someone would understand.

_Chapter Three_

She'd always ignored her mother, the words of her advice had always seemed trite to her but now she was here thousands of miles away from home and no-one to understand her, she wished she'd have listened to her wisdom. '_Follow the dream not the dreamer_' had been one of her favourites but she hadn't listened and she'd followed Jason across the sea to the beaches of Charleston, South Carolina. His dream of being an owner of several little franchises on the beach front had sounded so good, able to be a part of something bigger than herself, bigger than the small village she was living in. So she'd packed up, sold everything she could and bought a share with him, burning her bridges with everyone behind her. She was gone and the only thing she had left from it all was a piece of wood with her name on it, the one that used to be above the door of her small beach front shop.

The pain of the whole thing broke open, the words spilling over into the warm air of her new home. "We weren't the best shopkeepers to be honest, we made mistakes but we were pulling it round in the first few months." Heather paused as the tears threatened to fall over her skin and she waited until her eyes were calm again before continuing. "Jason always wanted to get things fast, so he borrowed money to open another little shop further down the beach-front. Thing was he borrowed from the wrong people, soon we were paying for the shop but we didn't own it, then the interest began to eat into the first store. I begged him to tell the police what was happening to us but he couldn't, that's when I found out we didn't have the rights to the franchises we'd been using. He'd been buying stolen goods from the same people, I felt so stupid, so hurt. I'd lost everything because I'd followed someone I thought I could trust, someone who loved me. When he disappeared for a few days I heard from a regular customer where he'd seen him, I closed up as usual and went to find him." Marty was stroking her hand as she let the hurt play across her face, the pain of it still raw, having to deal with the pain again and the consequences of the whole thing she'd gotten herself into.  
"I found him, he was with a woman." Marty gripped her hands as if she knew what she was going to say next, her tears slipped out as she looked at the older woman her face understanding the feelings that were pouring from her staining the air red. "His wife." The silence that came after those words said it all for her, Heather closed the book on that scene and the screaming match that had followed it.  
"Anyway afterward I tried to make the business fly alone but it wasn't to be. I got to work one day and the entire store was cleaned out, when I went to find Jason there were police outside the house. I went to ask about him and I was 'detained'." Marty just nodded as she worked out the circumstances the police would think she was capable of just finding out about a wife she didn't know her partner had had.

"They kept me in lock up for two weeks, I lost my apartment, my things were put into storage and I was only released when it became clear that I couldn't have killed the family. It didn't stop them from keeping me for the federal government though, you see the whole franchise thing had been a con done by the local cartel. I gave them enough to get the contact and then they used him to get to the cartel, thing was no one gave a damn about me after the men were in the system for the crimes. So I ran north, took the train with the things I had left from the storeroom." Her eyes went around the small apartment she'd found and the people she'd found a place with. Heather's skin was red blotchy, her tears marking her sorrow as she wiped them away with the back of her hand. "That's how I ended up here with you all, I'd been going through the property pages and I'd seen the building in the listings. I decided to chance it and see if there was something I could afford here." Marty gripped her hands tight, kissing the backs of them as she raised them to her face.  
"Glad you did honey, we're not Manhattan but we're clean and good people are everywhere honey. I know after something like that you'll be scared of being seen for a while but you have to go and meet life honey. You're not going to get anywhere staying in here for the rest of your life, I should know." The rheumy gaze cleared for a second as Marty went back into her own memories of pain and heartache. When she returned to the apartment there was a tangible sorrow about her and she seemed to have aged nearly ten years.

"We were happy me and Robert, the kids were just getting settled into high school when the news came that Roberts ship was going over to Vietnam. He was a gunner's mate, not an easy job but he'd been there once already and come home with nothing but a few memories. It was 1975 the end of the war and he was loading the ship when the accident happened, thing was I heard it from here. The explosion was huge they said, it ripped the entire deck apart, Robert was killed instantly." The tables were turned at that moment and it was Heather who was comforting the now fragile looking old lady sat on her couch. When her gaze returned to her own the spark of life was back in them and a smile back on her face, "I hid from the world for nearly three years until one day when my eldest was coming home from school. He was being picked on by a group of kids much bigger than him but it what they were saying to him that spurred me into action."  
"What was it? What were they saying to him?" Marty straightened herself up in her seat and reached out for her cup of chai.  
"That he lived with his cat-lady grandma, that I was mad and that he ate cat food instead of meatloaf. Now John never was one for violence but I think he'd had enough that day and he saw me watching from the window. He turned on them and beat a few of the loudest up, not saying he didn't get a few licks himself. When he came in I dressed his wounds and we went out as a family for the first time in three years. It was then I realised that I couldn't hide from life because it still went on around me, I had two kids to look after and they needed someone who was **in** life not apart from it."

Heather smiled at the strength being given to her in the words that her own mother would have given her if she'd still been alive. Her paper thin skinned hand went over Heather's hair and stroked it absently, "Life isn't fair honey but if it was it'd be boring. You're making a home here and that means taking risks on folks, including our own little ray of sunshine down the hall. If you want to invite him honey, you invite him but don't be surprised if he refuses." Smiling through her tears Heather nodded as she let herself be held by Marty.  
"Yeah I know but your right, life is a risk isn't it, every day is a risk. I'm just thankful I have some people to be with who aren't as awful as the start of my life here." Marty laughed at her words and Heather looked at the small woman with a little hurt in her gaze.  
"Oh honey, there's evil people everywhere you go, thing is you just have to be aware of them. Not saying you won't have your heart broken again by someone just as bad later on but if your as open and honest to them as you are to us here I'm sure you'll make it out there. Besides I always wanted a daughter to give away in a wedding." The laughter from them both warmed the dark corners of the room dispelling all the negative energy that had been released into it. The sunlight finally dropping across the mural on the wall, lighting a scene of a sailor kissing a woman on the quayside their forms obscured by the tape and confetti drifting down around them. Life returning after disaster, a moment of pure hope captured for eternity sending out its message across time into Heather's life when she needed it most. Catching the sunbeam's path Heather smiled and agreed, it was time she expanded her world a little, time she went out and explored the place she was going to call home.

The rest of the day was spent talking about the plans for her house warming, a week on Sunday sounded best, everyone on the floor would be home and she'd do an open house type thing. Making it all day so everyone could come and go as they needed to, with the children of the families on the floor having to go to bed early it seemed a good idea. She even got out some old stationary from one of the boxes and began writing out invitations, scratching out the 'anniversary' on the top, overwriting 'house warming' on them. It took a few moments and Marty took the ones she knew were in today so it left her free to work the afternoon on the apartment. She had a floor to scrub back to cleanliness and then she had a grocery run to do and deliver, she didn't do number eleven's yet. She wanted to see him to invite him personally, it seemed better to do it that way to her, as if there was something she had to see when she asked him.

If he refused her then she'd leave him alone to do whatever it was he did, the vision of his drab apartment running around her head as she went to scrub the floor. The beautiful blue drapes she had in a box that wouldn't fit her window's popped into her head, they'd come from Mr Leinter's apartment which was two floors down and he was on the end like number eleven. A smile on her face she made her mind up to dig them out for him, she said she'd pass on things to people who needed them and if anyone needed a little luxury it was number eleven. She shook her head, no he wasn't a number he was a person, his name was Logan and she'd catch him later with the drapes and pick up anything else he wanted her to do. She could find out if he'd been happy with her repairs of his clothing, her mind going to the box of shirts and trousers from the other boxes she'd sorted through. No he'd probably be offended if she offered them to him, she was okay with second hand stuff but not everyone was. She'd give him the drapes and invite him to her house warming, that'd be enough to show him she was making an effort to get to know him.

It was ten when she heard his footsteps go by, she'd been dozing on the couch listening to the radio a book half read by her side. The drapes were bagged up with rings and ties near the door, swallowing her nerves Heather got up and put on her slippers. Grabbing her keys she locked the apartment door behind her and went with the bag to Logan's door.  
Just like last time the door opened just before she knocked on it, making her swallow her words a little before she managed to get her throat into gear. "Hi, it's me again I just wondered if you'd like these," she offered the bag out to him but he just looked right through her his gaze tired and annoyed. Blushing as she caught sight of the rest of him as the door opened fully, he was dressed in a towel that's all. His hand still gripped the door blocking her path, again his skin was covered in bruises, some were almost faded but still there, nearly gone but they showed the damage he'd taken from someone.

Heather opened the bag and found herself explaining what they were, bringing the heavy blue fabric into the light, "Mr Leinter's apartment had these and he's two floors below you so they'll probably fit your windows, that is if you want them." The silence of his stare went through her, as if he was weighing her up and why she was there, finally he just walked away from her and left the door open for her to go inside. Entering she just closed the door but left it unlocked just in case, he went back to the bathroom, the sound of running water making her realise she'd interrupted his shower. "I can leave them here if you want so you can put them up yourself later." The utter silence that came from the bathroom convinced her that she was probably going to have to put them up for him. She was an odd-job woman after all, taking the silence as an affirmative she went over to the large bay window that dominated the room. There was nothing up, not a curtain or net, it was bare. The full acreage of glass swallowing her reflection and it made her insides ache at the thought of being so exposed to the city. Looking around for a chair that would lift her to the height of the rail she finally found one in the small kitchen.

Food was stuck to plates that hadn't seen the inside of a sink for a few months, the only things that seemed to colonise the room were beer bottles and take out boxes. Looked like he could do with a cleaner too, her eyes slid over to the old refrigerator and she quickly opened it. Ice, beer, bacon, eggs and a loaf was all she saw in there, feeling a little ashamed for peeking she grabbed the chair and brought it back out to the window. Shaking out the material Heather began to hum a tune to calm her nerves as she heard the water shut off in the bathroom, listening to the sound of the towel as it was used to dry himself.  
Her hands shook a little as she hooked the last ring onto the rail, climbing down from the chair she shook out the fabric standing back to look at the drape against the bare walls. The colour brought something to life in the room, giving it a sense of being lived in. Moving to the bag again she picked up the other one and shook it out before stepping on the chair, it took her a few minutes to put it up. Heather was just adjusting the rail when she heard someone speak behind her, "Thanks." Turning round on the chair she found herself looking down on the man who was watching her nervously, as she scanned his features she could see his nerves at her being here. Blushing herself as Heather realised she'd made a huge mistake, she was making him uncomfortable in his own home, her mouth tripping over words in a rush to get them out. "You're welcome, I just thought you might like them. When I dropped by for the key I noticed you didn't have any drapes for the window, it gets cold here near the river and the exposure is nice, if you like being in a fish bowl." Needing something to do she remembered the chair and plucked it up off the floor, "I'll put this back for you." Walking with the chair she didn't see him go to the drapes and pull them closed, the thick lining showing their expense. When she did return she caught him sniffing the fabric, coughing lightly she came over, seeing him drop the fabric and reach for his wallet. "Hey, it's okay there's no charge, I had these anyway and I can't use em. Better someone else should get some use out of them don't you think?"

Grabbing the bag Heather made her way toward the door, the man behind her almost reaching out to her when she turned toward him again. "I'm having a house warming soon and I'd like to invite you, that is if you haven't anything booked already." Her face was wide open when he caught the look of hope in her gaze, the light there almost made him reach out but he squashed the idea flat, just because she'd shared something she didn't need didn't mean she wanted to know him. Heather saw the cold look cross his eyes and her smile faltered, see his inner voice said, she's afraid of you and he held back a growl. Heather saw the look on his face but she wanted to make sure he knew he was welcome, "You know it's going to be all day, kind of an open house thing really, you just drop round and see what I've managed to do with the junk room. You know you never did tell me if there was anything of yours in there, there's a couple of boxes I haven't opened because I'm hoping someone knows who they belong to. I don't want to snoop around in people's lives you see, I wouldn't like it myself so…." Heather dropped her gaze from his and went to the door, her hand on the doorknob, "I'll leave you to get some sleep, sorry if I disturbed you." She was almost out of the door when he called to her.  
"What date?" She looked at his face, the tiny spark of hope fluttered again in her chest as she recognised the signs of someone reaching out to her.  
"The 18th of this month, it's a just turn up and rummage really, there's lots of interesting things been left behind here over the years, if you want anything in the boxes that are open just help yourself. Not everyone minds second hand," her hand drifted down her own clothes. "From a box labelled 58C, not a bad ensemble if I do say so myself." The trousers were old fashioned tweed and the shirt obviously a man's but it looked good on her. As she went through the door she gave him a last look and a smile, then she was gone leaving him alone with some shelter in his home from the eyes of the world.

_Chapter Four_

The morning of the 18th was bright and clear, Heather had been preparing a space for the children to play dress up if they wanted to, her windows were open to the railyard and the river breeze was playing in the small apartment. Bringing the scents of the city in late summer with it, the first families came for breakfast along with Marty, they brought coffee and bagels filled with all sorts of things.  
The hours of play slipped by, children came and went and the people of her floor all congratulated her on the wonders she done with the apartment and the pieces of artwork she'd made from the junk of the boxes. Even the super came to have lunch with her, his eye taking in everything she'd done with the money she had and he was pleased to say she'd done a good job. He mentioned upping her rent until several tenants had just stared at him with open hostility in their gazes making him backtrack and try to pull it off as a joke. Before he left he offered her some more work in another building a few streets away, something like this but bigger and to her surprise she accepted the offer. Nodding to himself assured that he had her on his staff he left with a few odd items he'd had his eye on since they'd been stored here.

When dinner rolled round the day was beginning to wear on her nerves a little, Marty had left a while ago leaving her with Stewart and Fred admiring her work on the wall, the mural catching Fred's eye. "Did you do this?" Heather nodded as she sipped her tea and Stewart gave it another look, his own shrewd gaze looking deeper than the surface of it and reading the hand that had placed the pictures in the pattern they were in. When Fred looked at her husband something had been settled between them and when they both left Stewart pushed a small card into her hand. "Come and see me at work when you have some time, I might have something for you." Smiling Heather took the card and wished them well as they went home, even number six had been, the man who was out most of the week was a reporter for several newspapers. He was a freelance and as such had no time to spend with her but he had popped his head in to drop off the key he'd been told to return. He'd seemed a happy enough man with his life but the one person she hadn't seen was Logan, she didn't even know if he was home. But the day had been an out and out success, she'd been accepted as a part of this building, she knew a little more about the people she was living with and they knew about her. No longer a stranger she was someone they knew, someone they'd spent time with, she just hoped it would bode well for the rest of her life here.

She was closing the windows when the knock on her door made her turn round, Logan was stood there looking a little nervous at the room with all its dishes everywhere and surfaces covered in glasses and empty cups. Smiling she left a window open and went over to her last guest, "I didn't think you were coming, please come in." She made to shut the door but noticed his unease as she pulled it to, leaving it ajar Heather went toward the small kitchen snagging cups and dirty plates as she went. "Want something to drink? Beer, coffee?" She heard him clear his throat and answer her, "Beer, if you have it." She returned with a bottle for him and a fresh cup of chai for herself.  
"All yours, there's plenty more in the kitchen if you want another." Taking the bottle from her grip he stood looking awkward in the middle of the floor, "Please sit down make yourself at home, that's the whole point of this anyway." He took a seat across from her and the mural, his eyes scanning everything he could, taking in the mess of children's clothes and the paintings that were littering the floor around the boxes.  
"Kids?" he motioned with the beer bottle to the mess.  
"Oh that lot? It's from the kids this afternoon, they had fun with the old clothes and stuff just haven't got round to moving it yet. Not my kids, the Peterson's and Jackson's they had fun and it was nice to hear them laughing."

The way she said it made his ears perk up, the mixture of scents here was mainly the ones he recognised along with her own scent. There wasn't another man's scent in here, not ingrained like hers was, she lived here alone. His hand lifted the beer to his lips as his eyes went to the mural above her head, he almost choked when his eye caught a picture in the top right corner. A picture of the north, moorland and open spaces, sheep grazing on the rough country, a sky filled with deep grey clouds threatening to downpour on the land at any second. Heather noticed his gaze and followed his eyeline, when he brought his gaze to hers she smiled at him. "That was the view from my old home, the Peak in all it's glory. Deep greens and greys, bleak in winter, impossibly beautiful in summer, a place to get lost in if you weren't careful. The moors are like that, they don't care who you are or what you are, no matter what you do, they'll always be bigger than you." The loneliness in her words made his own solitude push backwards a little until the inner voice began it's litany of abuse in his ears. Carefully schooling his features he looked at the rest of the mural, the pictures were placed with care, chosen for their messages, for the things they were saying to the person looking at them. There was a pattern, a looping spiral of happy pictures, of joyful mixed with painful ones, pieces of poetry pasted next to images of men huddled in the rain, juxtapositioned to a happy family smiling into a camera with no cares in the world but each other. Pieces of lives unknown to her arranged in a pattern that made sense to her, the play of a life written out in pictures to read if you had the key. The only question he gave her came after his slow perusal of the entire thing, "Why?" She'd been watching the emotions run across his eyes as he'd read the entire thing and she knew he understood parts of it as his eyes had locked onto several poignant pictures.  
"Why did I do it, or why did I choose what I chose?"  
"The last one," Heather nodded and took a drink of her tea, he wanted to know something about her, okay maybe she could make this into a conversation.

"Well, I pulled all the pictures I had out of my box and went through those first, picking out the ones I wanted to see everyday. Something I could live with and support me as I adjusted to living here." Her own body shifting as she looked at the pictures above her head, "I needed a prayer, something tangible, something more than words, something I could see to give me hope when there wasn't any to touch around me." She met his gaze again and found it rather uncomfortable as he seemed to be looking through her, straight through her. Forcing herself to relax she let his gaze fill her own, letting herself open up to him as she had everyone else today.

Now it was her turn to ask the question, "Why do you want to know?" He just emptied the beer bottle and stood up, his face clouded by something he didn't want her to see. Heather knew she'd hurt him somehow and she didn't want to end the day with her upsetting the one person she'd actually been looking forward to seeing. "I didn't mean to hurt you Logan, I was just interested in what you thought of it." He stopped halfway to the open door, his body frozen as he turned his now vicious glare into her making her wince with it's strength.  
"How do you know me?" The tone was cold and she stammered her reply quickly.  
"M…M…Marty told me, she knew your name from the mail the super delivered to you when you came home from being away." His shoulders slumped as all the anger drained out of him, he put the beer bottle on a table on the way out, his voice reaching her as he walked down the corridor.  
"Thanks for the beer." Then he was gone into his own apartment, leaving Heather feeling a little distressed and confused herself. Her own eyes drifting to the mural above her and wondering why her art had caused such a reaction in him, seeing the flow of pictures from a new perspective she caught the undercurrent of it all. The things she'd been showing to the world by the movement of her hands and mind, everything laid bare for the world to see. No wonder everyone looked at it strangely, it was something to everyone, every person seeing it differently. She could only wonder what Logan had seen in it, suddenly the need to apologise was in her throat as the tears were in her eyes. She'd hurt him of that she was sure and Heather didn't want to leave it there. Making her mind up she went to get her shoes on, her mind still filled with the sound of his voice as he'd walked away, it had unnerved her because she recognised the tone in it, it used to be in her own. Knowing that the sound of the words held a finality, a thing she couldn't bear if it came true, if her fears were founded in reality.

Going into the kitchen she'd picked up the rest of the case of beer and pulled the door shut behind her, her key was in her pocket and she knew she'd never touch the beer she was carrying. Her days of drowning in alcohol had been left far behind her and she made sure she didn't return there, because returning there would be her undoing.  
It was the least she could do, walking down toward the apartment she heard the soft pattering sound of the shower running again, yet when Heather got to the doorway she found it was unlocked. The door was just shut to, not even shut properly, as if he'd slammed it and thought it had shut behind him, knocking loudly she waited for an answer and none came. Her mind telling her that she'd been wrong he wasn't going to do something stupid to himself, he was just annoyed at her for doing something, yet her mind almost froze when the next sound reached her ears. It was a sound of something being drawn out followed by a muffled sigh from inside, the sounds of water moving and splashing over the sides of a tub. Pushing inside Heather noticed the darkness of water spreading out on the bare floorboards making her sure of what was happening behind that door.

Fear filled her mind as the memory opened inside, the smell of rain on the road outside, the gentle slap of water on the tile, the red that had crept out from the bathroom and into her bedroom carpet. Opening the door and seeing her mother under the water, her hair floating in the pink water, eyes open but sightless.

Dropping the case of beer next to the bathroom door Heather ran inside, the apartment door shutting behind her. The bathroom door was ajar and she pushed it open fully to see pink water and the form in the tub submerged inside it. Logan had his hands to his chest and the water was blooming red beneath him, turning off the water running into the bath Heather reached down making the freezing water spill even further. As Heather reached down and pulled Logan's unconscious form upward she saw the six blades sticking out of his shoulders, putting him over the edge of the old bath she heard the odd sound again and the blades disappeared.

Working on autopilot she unplugged the bath and watched the water drain away, her eyes going to the now limp body that was barely warm. He hadn't even bothered to get undressed, the tears in his old shirt now making some sense to her as she fingered the new tears on his shoulders. Still sticky with blood as Logan began to heave lungfuls of water out of his body, holding his head still and his throat open as the water drained from him. Heather said nothing as his head turned to see her crouched next to the tub her clothes drenched and her hands bloody, there was nothing to say and he tried to move away from her presence. Heather knew Logan wanted her to leave but if she left she knew he'd just try again and she couldn't let him go, couldn't let him drown alone. Snagging the few towels he had she dropped them onto the floor and mopped up the spilled water, going into the main apartment she pulled the beer into the bathroom and took one out. Using her keys she popped the top off and drained half the bottle before holding it out to Logan, when he didn't take it she forced it into his hand and collapsed on the still wet floor. Her gaze never leaving his body as Logan shifted in the cold enamel bath, her hand reached for a second bottle and finding one popped it open with ease.

She'd gotten through most of it when Logan actually spoke to her, her head had gone down by then, looking at the cold wet mess her clothes were in along with the bloodstains on her thighs. "Why?" Her face was red and her nerves were at their limit, she'd done everything she could to be helpful, to have a purpose and here was someone who seemed to love the indifference she fought against everyday of her life. Heather was angry at Logan for being able to give into the feelings, to let himself go if he wanted to without guilt or pain of who might find him. She wanted to scream at him but she didn't, Logan had his reasons just like she'd had and she had no right to question him about them.  
"Because I didn't want you to leave because of me, you've lived here longer than I have and I didn't want you to leave on a bad note with me." Heather raised the now empty beer bottle in her hand, "Besides I don't know how you can even drink this stuff, it's awful."

Logan was sat in the bath still, the puncture marks evident in his shirts and bloodstains were setting in the enamel behind him, he shifted over and pulled another beer out of the case. Heather went to offer her key when Logan slid a piece of metal out between his knuckles and popped the top, her eyes were riveted to the shining piece of metal as it slid away back into his hand. Logan's gaze locked onto hers as Heather watched the cut heal up in front of her eyes, there was something in his gaze as he raised the bottle to his lips, as if he expected her to run from him.

Logan expected something from her, not the indifference he was getting, nor the sorrow that was coming off her in waves. When the tears started Heather didn't even feel them at first, she just blinked them away, it seemed so surreal to her that the one thing that had driven her from home would follow her here. That when she thought she'd finally found somewhere and people who understood and could accept her Heather was shown this again. Pulling her shirt sleeves up Heather rotated her arms to show him the scar tissue on her own , twin slices down the entire forearm. Heather saw Logan's eyes drop to her own scar tissue and her voice was cold when it echoed around the bathroom, "Want to swap stories?" Her eyes closed against the sight of his dark eyes burrowing into her own, making her mind re-open things Heather wished she could keep buried.

The silence from the bath made her open her eyes again, it was empty the bloodstains slowly drying in the bath the only evidence that Logan had even tried to hurt himself. Suddenly angry Heather pushed off the floor her hand dropping the empty beer bottle, she went into the main room and watched in absolute horror as Logan began to slice into his own flesh with the blades that came out of his hands.

Flesh separated, blood flew across the room spattering the walls, the colour standing proud against the grey of the elderly paint. Bone showed bright silver before being absorbed again by red flesh re-knitting itself as fast as he could cut it, Heather watched as he dragged the blades across his throat, the spurt of arterial blood stopping just as it started. Tearing his hands away from his throat he went for his stomach and chest, reminding her of a butcher at work. Trying to undo what he was, to destroy himself in front of her, despite of her presence.  
Heather's horror turned to anger as she saw the pain flit across his face, the wounds healing as fast as Logan could deal them to his own body. His shirt was a tattered mess, his jeans beyond repair and in a fit of absolute madness Heather recognised them as the pair she'd mended, her fists bunched she leapt onto his back. Her own weight forcing Logan over to the floor, the tears obscuring her sight as she just pounded his back with her own blows, her voice cracked and harsh as she screamed at him, telling Logan he had no right to do this, to leave her, to make her feel guilty for him.

In Heather's mind it wasn't Logan, it was her mother, her struggle with the internal tides had been too much for her to bear and she'd succumbed to the voice that had always been with her. It had been so easy to let go when she'd finished school, her mother reasoning that she could survive without her now. So she'd followed the sirens song to the other side, where life wasn't a struggle anymore, where she could be nothing, where she could be still.

Heather had tried to follow her four months afterward but her father had found her, made her get the help her mother had refused. Turning everything about her mother into hatred, ignoring her advice, destroying everything she could of her inside herself until there was nothing of her left. Only the song she sometimes heard lulling her to the darkness and telling her it was so easy to let go, to sleep, to drift with no more pain. This was where her counsellor had given her the cuttings book, to make picture prayers to keep her mind grounded, to show her what was worth living _for_. What her mural was for in her new home but Logan had seen something different in it and it had made him do this and Heather needed to know _why_, was it her, was it what she'd used, was that it? Or had he seen something in her not worth the fight, if it was that then Heather _could_ let go, drift into the dark and sleep like she wanted to when the nights became too much to bear alone.

Finally spent; Heather felt the shudders beneath her as her mind came back to where she was. She was resting on top of a man who had just a few moments ago tried to kill himself with his own set of blades. Logan's skin was unmarked and warm beneath her and Heather began to move away from him, she didn't get far. Logan's hand shot out and grabbed her bare forearm, making her slide to the side of his hunched form onto her knees, the words he spoke so quiet she nearly missed them, "Tell me." No two words ever held so much emotion, the depth of the pain in them was something she'd always remember all the days of her life.

So Heather told him, she told him _everything_, about being raised on a farm in the Peak, the loneliness and suffocating smallness of it all. The suicide of her mother, the hatred of her father about her own struggle with the same demon that had brought him so much sorrow already. Her move out of home to the small town nearby, then her meeting with Jason, the dreams he'd given her. A way out of the darkness into the sunlight and she'd taken it with both hands, burning her bridges behind her.

The collapse of the dream and the aftermath, her running with barely anything she could carry onto a northbound train, working where she could, when she could. Living in hostels and searching for somewhere to live, somewhere she could pull herself together, somewhere she could _heal_.

Here, where she'd found him, drowning in a bath full of water, just like her mother had. Heather figured she'd come full circle now, there was nothing left to fight with or against anymore. No matter where she went it'd be the same, death and pain, hope being dangled out like a lifeline only to be snatched away. Her red eyed gaze hit Logan's own and he saw she meant every word, Heather had nothing left, after a day of being happy and wanted she'd been shown the reason for her coming here, to learn no matter where she ran; death would catch her.  
"You're death aren't you?" Logan looked at her with something like confusion as Heather peeled his hand away from her arm, holding the wrist Heather pulled the hand into a fist as she'd seen him do. "If you are, then _do_ it, stop all this _hope_, this wishing for _better_ when we both know it gets me _nowhere_," she pulled his knuckles to her chest and waited. Heather knew Logan could control them, could make them come out if he wanted to, the look of terror in his eyes was enough to break her, as if she'd asked him to do something he couldn't even imagine. It was enough to smash through her overwrought mind and Heather just faded away into blackness; wrapped around the fist she still held to her chest, the pulse of life in it echoing through her. A point of light in the encroaching darkness that was filling her skin, until it was the only real thing she knew as the emotional exhaustion dropped her into oblivion.

_Chapter Five_

Heather woke in her own room on her own bed, still dressed in the bloodied clothing and the sweet smell of coffee lingering around in the air. Pushing out of bed she went straight out to find Logan sat across from her mural like he had last night, dressed in clothes from the box of second hand stuff. A pair of dress trousers that hugged his thighs tight and ended a good inch before his ankle, he wore nothing else and Heather took in the sight of him. His hands were cradling a mug of coffee, the knuckles red and angry as if he'd been rubbing them. Looking at the mess of cardboard on the floor she realised he'd been rummaging through the rest of the stuff here, including the two closed boxes. There were pictures strewn over her sofa but he held one in his fingers looking at it with a distinct air of sadness.

Padding over to the kitchen Heather poured herself a cup of coffee, moving slowly she sat across from her visitor inside the pool of photographic paper, her throat seized when Logan finally looked at her. It was as if he'd seen the loss of everything he'd ever loved and cared for, the depth of his sorrow filling the room making her struggle to breathe with it. Heather said nothing as Logan held out the old photograph, her fingers shaking as she took the picture from him. A woman smiling out at the world, a child with dark expressive eyes looking straight into the camera lens. The features instantly recognisable as Logan's own, the woman was his wife and the child was his son. Turning the picture over the date printed on the back, '_August 24th 1945_', their names underneath it '_Lily and Micheal_'. The sight behind them was the view from the front door, the old pharmacy was still there as was the telephone pole. Heather looked up and saw the tears standing proud in Logan's gaze, his voice hardly shaking when his voice rumbled through the room.  
"Didn't even know they'd existed till this morning," he waved to the boxes that were still wrapped as a tear fell unnoticed down his rough face. There were a scattering of trinkets nearby, a child's yo-yo, a brooch made of paste stones in the shape of a flying crane, a shaving set which he'd opened, the initials on the straight razor '_JL_'. "I had a _family_ here, thing was I don't remember anything about them or even if they're real. I can't remember anything since 1990, since I …." The blank space made Heather want to scream, if he was saying that this woman had been his wife then that would make him nearly 90 years old. Squashing her own fear Heather answered him as the silent flow continued down his face as she let go of the photograph and let it fall to the floor face down.  
"How do you know that this stuff is yours? I mean they could be anyone's." Without making much fuss he picked up a piece of paper and wrote the same words as the ones on the photograph and handed it to her to compare the two. They matched, even down to the way he curled the 'M' in Micheal and he hadn't taken his time, he'd rushed it on purpose. Taking her heart in her hands Heather plucked the fallen photograph from the floor and handed it back but Logan didn't reach for it, he just turned away from her and took a drink of the strong brew in his hands. "Do you want these?"

When Logan looked at her there was a darkness in his gaze, an anger that made her fear spike for a second, "Why, so you can just take me _back_?" Heather looked confused at him, not understanding him at all when he stood up and came toward her, the anger in him beginning to show through his skin. "You'd like that wouldn't you? Funny isn't it how you just manage to get yourself a place here, how you manage to get everyone to like you, to keep an eye out for me. Asking people where I am and what I do." His bulk was now on either side of her pressing her into the sofa, her own fear now making her cry, Logan could kill her if he wanted to Heather knew that. Hell she'd asked him to last night but he wasn't making sense and she said so, "I don't understand."

Logan grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her up off the sofa, pushing her face next to the mural on the wall, near a picture of people on the beach having fun. His finger pushed into a small little pattern on the wall, his voice growling out the words, "This! Where else would you get this pattern if you weren't one of '_them_'? One of the sick twisted fucks who did this to me!" Logan punctuated the sentence by firing the claws on his left hand, "Think I was born with these, think I like being a freak, like being alone, hounded and chased across the fucking continent by you fucks! Well it stops, right now, you hear me, I'd rather _die_ than go back there again, you can tell whoever you work for, that I'd kill you in a heartbeat before I EVER let them get close to me!"

His grip on her arm was bruising as Heather looked at the pattern he was pointing at, it was a knotwork design, one she'd copied from a book she had from the boxes. The pattern was old, from a civilisation that had loved and valued beauty, Logan didn't let her go but she swallowed and looked at him without fear in her eyes. He'd been hurt, chased, abused, lost and now he'd been hurt by her again, Logan thought she was one of those who'd hurt him and no matter what she told him he would never believe or trust her but Heather _had_ to try.  
"Logan the bookcase, please, take me to the bookcase," her face held nothing but resignation and Logan thought he'd won, he was right that he'd found out their little game to hurt him, to trap him again.

Pulling Heather to the bookcase Logan watched as she pulled a dark covered book off the shelf and opened it at a bookmark. The pattern was on the paper, large and beautiful, carved into stone above a doorway, the small writing next to it was quickly read by him. '_The symbol of renewal, as one passed through, the lintel pattern blessed the visitor with health and luck. Common in houses of the Southern Irish states of the Bronze age period._' The book seemed to burn in his hands as Logan let go of Heather, flicking through the pages he saw more patterns he recognised, the ones that had been for the various floors and rooms that did different avenues of research. Logans face paled as the symbols he'd found were actual blessings for those who passed through a household.

A sick twisted feeling knotted his stomach as Logan realised he'd been willing to kill Heather over a symbol that had no meaning for her but renewal. One that had meant pain and death to him, suddenly sick he dropped the book and barely made it to the sink before bringing up the coffee; leaving his body shaking with nerves and pain. Crying into the sink with huge breaths shaking him to the core, not feeling the hands wrap around him until the comforting weight of Heather was there behind him. Holding him still as he cried and broke apart, his mind filled with the laughter of a child and the scream of a woman, mixed with the roars of his own birth fifteen years ago, a world filled with misery and pain. Of constantly moving, of avoiding people, running when people got to know him or his habits, never putting down solid roots until here. He'd felt safe here, familiar and now he knew why, he'd been here before but he hadn't been alone.

Heather didn't understand everything that had happened in the few moments that had changed everything between them but she knew Logan was hurting and she couldn't leave anyone in such pain, not even him. Heather held him as the heaving sobs slowed to deep breaths, her skin on his back, her hands wrapped around his chest. Just holding him supporting him, she didn't want to see his pain, she only wanted to help him make it bearable.

Heather was still holding him when Marty knocked and walked in as she usually did for her morning visit, seeing the two of them in the small kitchen Marty was about to speak when Logan just snarled and tore himself away from her. Pushing past Marty and flying down the hallway into his own room, the door slamming behind him leaving Heather stood stock still her own tears sliding down her face as she realised Logan would probably leave now. She'd made him remember things he didn't want to remember and he'd blame her, lost she just looked to the shocked figure of Marty and held out her hand to the older woman who just shut the door and rushed over to her, a thousand questions flowing from her mouth but she wasn't able to answer her.

Still being cradled by Marty they both heard the deep footsteps run down the hallway and down the stairs, Marty followed the sound by saying "Good riddance to bad rubbish!" Heather just started crying again, she didn't know who it was for, him or herself, all she did know was that if she ever saw him again she'd make it upto him somehow. It was important to her deep inside.

_Chapter Six_

They talked and went through the two boxes, all that was inside were memories, a dinner menu from the Empire State when it still had it's restaurant on the viewing floor. Pressed flowers still in between pages of a well worn bible, the name inside the cover '_Micheal Logan_'. A picture of a couple stood together one dressed in a simple white dress, the other the image of the man who'd left earlier. Marty looked at the picture and whistled, "Boy he looks like his father, pity he doesn't have the same temperament. This man knew how to smile." The picture showed Logan in a moment of perfect happiness, the shining face of his bride reflected the love that was in their souls, something that you found once and only once. He'd lost them both and Heather was determined to find out how, Marty was looking at her clothes and the bloodstains, her natural curiosity was going to start asking questions soon and Heather didn't know how to answer her.

"Marty, what do you know about these people? They lived here at the end of the war, Logan's family lived here, I think that's why he came back to live here. Why he keeps to himself you know." Seeing Marty's mind diverted from her own state of dress she got up and went to get showered and changed, leaving the doors open so she could hear her.  
"I don't know honey, you should ask Herb, he's got the old rent books downstairs. I mean he actually knows who owns the building, I think it's a trust as far as I know but the name on it is a mystery to me. All I do is pay rent and make sure the repairs are done when I want them done." Heather listened as she changed, quickly grabbing her clothes from a pile near the bed, pulling on a sweater she came out with a smile on her face. Logan may have run but Heather was going to make sure he had something to come back to.

It took her some time to actually find the people that owned the old building, it was a trust, done in the late part of 1945. The rents were used to pay for the upkeep of the building and another like it a few blocks away, the same building the super had asked her to help with. The local library had been of more help to her though, the newspaper archive had revealed the truth to her and looking at it she wondered what else could have happened to Logan to make him keep running, this had been bad enough.  
The fire report had stated that the blaze had started from a faulty oil heater, three bodies were found in the building, two adults and one child, everyone else had managed to escape. They were named as the Logan family, James Logan aged 34, Lily Logan aged 32 and Micheal Logan aged 5. They'd been buried at the local cemetery what was left of their possessions was put into storage in the building. But if Logan had been burned in the fire how could he be the same man as the one who'd written the names on the back of the photograph?  
Records were hard to get hold of and Heather found herself banging her head against a brick wall for a month. Seeing as she wasn't family she couldn't access the birth or death certificates she needed to look at, it was something Herb said to her that finally let the piece of the puzzle finally fall into place. They'd been at the new building, the one she was going to help renovate with Herb when they came across several down and outs using the cellar. With a few words and a bit of cash they got them to move on without involving the police, it was then Herb decided to tell her about the problems they had with the old building. They'd always had a few vagrants staying in the cellars there, where the laundry was now, thing was it'd been after the war and several men had come home to find their wives gone and their homes re-rented to someone else. So they'd ended up in the basement, usually sleeping round the old boiler down there, the fire had been blamed on one of them. The fire that had gutted the entire bottom floor, killing the family that had lived there. When Herb had mentioned it he looked sideways at her, as if he expected her to say something but Heather kept her mouth shut and got on with her work. All the while thinking about how much Herb really knew about Logan and the reasons he always kept number eleven on her floor empty for him.

The seasons changed, winter came and went, filling life with colour to replace the colours that had been lost when the world turned white. Christmas came and went with no sign of Logan, his empty room at the end of the hallway made Heather wonder if he was ever coming back. The rest of the floor didn't really miss him, they all had lives to live and things to do that took them outside the building, where as Heather was making this building her life. Herb was getting on and he needed someone to take over the work he was doing and she fitted the bill, she dealt with the contractors who found her no-nonsense approach refreshing. She did a job herself if they quoted a too high price, then she got someone to come and check it afterward, they soon came round to her way of thinking.  
Marty had gone to spend sometime with her family over Christmas but she returned before the snow had gone, telling her all about the beautiful granny flat and her plans to split her year with her apartment here and the warmth of the south. Marty had brought her a present back with her, a piece of silk from a small shop down there that dealt in old wedding dresses. It was beaded with tiny seed pearls, the pattern beautiful and old, swirling and arching over the yellowed silk, something that modern tastes would have shunned but Heather loved it. When she'd handed it over to her Marty had asked about Logan, if he'd come back yet, when she'd said no Marty had just shrugged and sighed. Her words ringing through her as she walked back to her apartment followed by her purple poodle, "Well you can't blame him, he doesn't have much to come back _to_ does he?"

Fate gave her a chance when the floor below complained of a leak coming through the ceiling, number eleven on floor three, right under Logan's apartment. Herb had given her the key to open up and see what was causing the leak. She'd jumped at the chance, taking the heavy key she'd run back upstairs, her footsteps slowing as she approached Logan's door. Indecision ate at her as she fumbled with the lock, Heather needed to get in and see what the problem was but it seemed an invasion of his privacy, as if she was opening his mind upto her. Shaking off her doubts Heather went inside, everything was the same, even down to the blood spatter on the walls.

Nothing had changed and her throat constricted at the sight of the dust covering everything, pulling the curtains open she saw the problem. A pipe had burst in the bathroom, the old copper had finally given way and with the thaw coming it had thawed the burst pipe. Taking out her small radio she called Herb and told him she'd found the problem and would have to turn the water off for a while so she could fix it in here. Herb asked her if there was anything else that needed fixing in there, looking back into the apartment it was all she could do to answer him, the blockage in her throat was making it hard for her to answer him. "Yeah Herb, there's a lot to do up here, a complete refit by the looks of it. Wiring, plumbing, decorating, yeah Herb there's a lot to do in here." The silence that followed her statement felt uncomfortable until Herb answered her making her jump slightly.  
"Well you get on with the repairs, we'll bill the trust later," Herb paused as something passed his mind and Heather caught the feeling along the airwaves. "Just don't make it too girly, he pays his rent still so don't do something that'll stop him." Heather knew Herb was telling her to do what she wanted to his room, to make it liveable again but not to change it too much. Smiling she answered him, "Aye-aye captain." The laugh she caught on the end of her communication to Herb made her smile, he thought of her as his trainee, and she'd started calling him captain after she'd found out Herb used to work on the tug boats at the docks. It pleased him, making him smile something he sometimes found hard but with her he'd found someone worth smiling at and she'd found a purpose in his work, one she could carry on herself.

The refit of the electrics took a week, plumbing three days, it was the walls that took the most time to get right. The first coat of paint didn't even cover the blood that had soaked into the walls, the second and third coats were just wrong, the blood still managed to seep through and the final answer was to redo the entire thing. So she pulled off the old plasterboard and plaster, removing all the stained pieces and re-skimming where they joined, making the whole place new. The skirting boards were stripped and waxed, natural wood now shone everywhere, the floorboards were sanded and waxed, not slippery but a dull glow that reflected the light from the city. The colour on the window frames matched the view from the window so it looked like an open view to the world, the walls were a soft cream, something subtle but warm. His battered furniture was recovered, the kitchen cleared out and new shelves installed, a set of pans and plates were taken from the stock of boxes Heather still had in her own apartment. She even built a beer store under the sink and filled it with different bottles of beer, each one a different taste or point of origin, she even managed to get a bottle of Black Sheep beer from home.  
Apart from her own work in the building and the artwork she was doing for Stewart's workplace Heather spent more and more time in Logan's apartment. Making it into a home, a place Logan could be at home _in_, although when she saw the bedroom her heart had almost broken when Heather had seen what Logan had been using as a bed.

The old divan was cut up, the mattress was slashed through, somehow Heather knew it wasn't by choice, the bloodstains on the fabric told her of the times he'd injured himself on here and not all of it was on purpose. It had been the bundle of blankets in the far corner that had told Heather exactly where Logan slept when he couldn't face lying down. The haphazard pile telling Heather everything she needed to know as she pulled the first shredded army blanket off the floor. Eyes had filled with tears as she'd removed the shredded blankets determined to find Logan something better. He wasn't an animal, he might be a mutant but he didn't deserve to live like an animal.  
The whole thing had made her look at the situation outside her building, the whole mutant question, there were people out there that hated everyone who was different no matter if your skin was white, black, brown or green. She'd known hate and been on the wrong end of it and so she didn't like it in her life, the buildings she did work in with Herb had a '_good_ _neighbour_' policy written into their contracts of tenancy. If you were accused of racial, species or sexual harassment then you had a chance to defend yourself and if you were found guilty you were asked to leave or were forcefully evicted. It made Heather feel good to have a place where people were judged by their actions not by their appearance and she'd carry that on when Herb took his retirement.

The bed was a find, Herb had done a deal with a contractor who had a spare orthopaedic bed, one of those with the resealable foam that contoured the body, keeping it supported but safe. Heather tried it herself before they put it in his room, the entire thing made you feel like you were floating, supported and safe in warmth all around your body. Heather paid for it herself, finding some sheets and blankets from the boxes she made the bed up. Every week she put fresh bedding on it to keep it aired and mould free, the walls were adorned with scenes of the wilderness, open vistas and big skies. Even the walls were painted with a calm shade of blue, something faded and familiar, like the old denim Logan had left behind in his closet.

When Heather had finally finished the rooms were transformed and Herb was astounded at the touches she'd put in it, it was home but it was 'Logan's' home. Heather had cleaned, retouched and reworked what was there, she left an album of pictures showing the work that had been done and dated each picture. When Logan finally returned home he could see that the work had been done with him in mind and for him alone, that it wasn't a refit to get him out. That it was something just for him, for a resident who'd needed some help and she'd given it. The final piece was another album with everything she'd found out about the family that had died here, his family.

Heather kept a key and changed the sheets as the year turned back to summer, dusting and cleaning checking the cupboards and keeping an air of life in the rooms. It was in one of those moments that she turned to find Logan stood at his own door the small bag in his hand dangling at his side and a look of fear on his face. Smiling Heather spoke to put him at ease, "Hi, your back. Let me just finish cleaning and I'll get out of your hair." Logan's eyes were running around the room and he just looked pole-axed, picking up her dusters and mop Heather stood to one side and waited for him to move so she could leave. Logan entered slowly, as if the rooms weren't his, as if the things on the table weren't his memories and the pictures on the walls didn't make sense to him. Before she left Heather pulled out the album with the renovation pictures in it and held it out to him, "Here, this explains it all. If there's anything you don't like, just let me know and we'll do our best to change it for you." Her hand touched his shoulder and Heather caught his eye at last, seeing Logan's gaze fill with questions she just smiled at him. "If you need me I'll be down the hall," with that she left him to get acquainted with his old/new apartment.

It took him three days before Logan came to see her, a bag of laundry in his hand and a cup of chai in the other. He'd knocked politely and when she'd answered the door he looked as if he'd swallowed a bear he was that uncomfortable, "Come in, please." Moving over her threshold he relaxed out of the view of other people, out of their stares and quiet whisperings. He didn't wince this time when Heather closed the door on the hallway, he seemed more relaxed than last time. She went to sit down when he just thrust the cup out at her, his eyes telling her that he'd brought this for her, "Thank you, please sit down Logan, you're welcome here." Moving slowly he settled underneath the mural, his eyes never leaving her as Heather sat down in her chair by the open window. Taking a sniff and taste of the Chai Heather smiled as she realised it was the expensive one Marty liked to treat them to on what she called 'treat-days' where they'd eat chocolate covered doughnuts and cookies. Smiling she just waited for Logan to speak, her gaze leaving him and going out to the railyard below her window.

When he did speak it was a surprise, his voice was different, more settled, more confident, "I like what you did to the place, you seem to have read me quite well for all the time I spent with you." Heather knew Logan meant his threat to her life, to the hurt he'd promised to do to her, the fear he'd had about her being someone who would hurt him and take him away again. Turning her face to his Heather locked eyes with him, her mind calm and her body at ease, "You're welcome, I had to go in there to find the water leak so it just seemed right to fix whatever else was wrong in there. Herb asked me to do it, so I did it." Logan's face seemed to lose some light when he heard her words and she regretted her casual remark, " I enjoyed it, it was nice to do something like that for you. I know how hard it is to make a home somewhere, especially when you don't have much to begin with." Heather moved forward on the seat and looked at him, Logan was still nervous about being here with her and she wondered why. "Why are you afraid of me?" His gaze hit her own and Heather felt her heart jump at it's intensity.  
"Don't you hate me? For what I did to you? What I accused you of?"  
"No, I didn't understand what you were _trying_ to accuse me of, so how can I hate you for something I don't understand?" Heather watched as his shoulders slumped down, the tension bleeding away from his form, "Besides I asked you if there was anything you wanted in here, if anyone has to apologise it's _me_." He opened his mouth to answer her but she beat him to it, "I know I should've left things where they were but I needed to know what had happened here, to you and your family. Marty thinks you're the little boy in the picture as does everyone else here but you're not are you, you're Micheal's father or were. They thought you died here in the fire but that had probably been the vagrant who'd been trying to save your family. More than likely the same man who caused the fire in the first place, thing was it wasn't you but you never came back, well not until now."

Heather watched the emotions play across Logan's features, the way his eyes narrowed and opened as he remembered the details in the album she'd put together for him. Giving him a piece of his past to work from, a place to call home instead of a place to hide in, everything passed his expressive eyes, going through his compact frame and resting in the air around him. Unexpressed emotion building until Heather thought he'd burst from the strain of keeping it inside, moving over to the sofa Heather sat next to him, her hand resting on his thigh. "It's okay to feel Logan, I'm sorry if I ever hurt you; I didn't mean to and I don't know what happened to you but I won't let it happen to you _here_. I help out at the building now, Herb shares the workload and I'm getting to know everything and everyone that passes through here. You let me know who to watch out for and I'll tell you if and when they come here." The look of utter sadness that covered his face as he turned it to the window a deep sigh rumbling out of him as he spoke to the room.  
"If they'd come here darlin' you'd have been dead before you hit the floor," his hands twisting on themselves and a frisson of fear filled her as Heather reached out to them. Her rough fingers touching his skin and making Logan look at her as she held his hand in hers.  
"Beats living half a life though, don't you think?" A wry smile filled him as a sorrow ran across his features, Logan's fingers touching her hand learning the ridges and calluses.  
"No, because they're gone, there's nothing left of em. Not of the one's I could find anyway." The finality of his words hit her and Heather realised Logan was telling her he'd killed them, that he'd found what he could, tracked those who'd done it to him and ended it his way. His dark eyes hit her own looking for some kind of acceptance of his actions that he did right. Swallowing Heather took a grip on his large hand and asked Logan to tell her what they'd done to him, what he could remember, he knew about her, now it was his turn.

The words were slow in coming but they soon flooded the room, filling every space with hurt and pain. The anguish of a mind torn into pieces, barely alive, barely _human_, wandering the cold north lost, afraid and alone. The years of running, hiding what he was, the fear as he'd first understood what was wrong with him, what made him different from everyone else around him. The first time he'd heard the word '_mutant_' spat at him like a curse and the anger that had followed close on it's heels, losing himself to an anger that had scared him at first until he'd learned to use it.

Learned to punish himself and those who would see him as less than human, the fighting circuit and the money he'd earned over the years wired to an account he lived off. The things he tried to remember but couldn't, little things being revealed to him in flashes, half thoughts and pieces of memories triggered by scents and places. Like here, a place of life, a place he could be at _home_ in, a safe place, place to heal in, to come back to when he became tired of being beaten like a dog.

Surviving, not living, he didn't, couldn't live until he'd finished what he'd had to, to find the ones who'd taken his mind and memories. But even now when he'd found some of the truth it hadn't been enough, he'd followed the trail, beaten the truth out of the old soldiers who were living in peace and surrounded my loving families.

Heather saw Logan's hatred at his own methods but she understood the _need_ to know, to find out _why_. She'd made her fathers life a misery because he'd hidden her mothers illness from her until she'd been diagnosed with it herself, if he'd been upfront she could've understood, maybe not run from him when things went south on her. Even now she couldn't forgive him for keeping it all a secret away from her, as if her life with them both had been a lie, a pretty play acted out everyday to keep the truth from her.  
Tears were falling and they weren't for herself, they were for him, that he'd gone through so much for so little. To be used and abused as something not worth the effort of touching, to be branded '_a mistake_', '_a failed experiment_' that had survived. None of them ever expected to see him again, that the mess they'd left his mind in was enough to cripple anyone, to destroy them utterly. The self doubt eating at him constantly, the worthlessness that he fought against by being in the cage, letting the darker half of himself survive in there, to take over and win some self respect. Thing was it didn't help the human half of him, it only frustrated him further.

Logan told her about him coming here nearly seven years ago, walking by and feeling a pull in his bones. He'd gone in and walked upto the door of the supers apartment on the ground floor and knocked on it, not knowing why but being invited inside and signing a tenancy agreement that day. Setting up the rent payments through his account, he'd just walked back out again but the super had watched him walk away down the street finally closing the door when he'd turned the corner. He'd wandered round still, following the fight circuit, going where the money was best, doing the fights that would let him forget who and what he was. Losing himself in the brutality of it all, the underground world one that kept it's secrets close to it's chest and killed those that spoke openly about them.

He'd fitted there and he'd let them take what was left of his humanity, leaving him with nothing but an aching void inside him. He'd filled it with women, beer and random violence but he'd never brought it here, only once had he brought women back here and he'd regretted it when he'd thrown them out at four in the morning. The looks of disgust from the people around him had hurt him and Heather knew what Marty had been talking about now, when she'd first come here she'd told her that he'd brought some women home with him. Women she didn't approve of, of a low sort and she could only think of the women that hung around the bar at the end of the street, all make-up and hollow-eyed.

Logan had been used, abused, tortured, beaten, smashed up beyond all recognition, remade into a form that wasn't his own, given a metal covered skeleton that had added nearly a hundred pounds to his already heavy frame. Her own memory remembering the shine of metal as she'd seen him slice into his body that night, the night he'd tried to kill himself because he thought they'd found him. That he'd been so far gone to think that Heather was one of them, that her open hand had been a snare to wrap around his throat and kill him. That Logan had thought she was part of a plan to strip whatever he had left of himself, to return him to the place where they'd made him into this creature, this half-human mutant that he despised being.

Heather was quiet for a while as the weight of his words settled on her, he made a move and let go of her hand, pushing himself off the sofa. Moving to her door she watched the weight of him increase with each step as her silence spoke for her, he'd accepted her silence as her disapproval of him and his life and he was wrong. Just before his hand touched the doorknob Heather was up and out of the sofa and pulling him back around to face her, tear tracks still visible on her skin and her voice cracked as she answered him. "Logan, whatever you did I'm sure they deserved it, after what they took from you, what they _did_ to you I'm not even sure I'd have done any better than you. I _understand_ now, why you did what you did that night, you thought I was one of them, one of those that wanted to hurt you. But I'm not, I just found this place like you did, a place to be, a place to pull myself together again." Seeing him retreating from her Heather pulled out the big guns, "You've helped me you know." Logan's head snapped up to look at her, an almost burning hope lodged in his eyes wishing he could believe what she was telling him was the truth and not something to make him feel better.  
"How? How could I help you, I haven't even been here!" Tension was returning to his frame and Heather pulled at him until he sat back down on the sofa, her hand still on his arm and her eyes ablaze.  
"Because you let me in when no one else was interested, when I brought the drapes, you _let_ _me in_. You're the only other person on your own on this floor and I wanted to _know_ you, to show you that we weren't alone even if everyone else has someone to talk to. Even Marty has her geriatric poodle, me I had no-one to share time with, to think about apart from myself and the things that brought me here." Logan's eyes became wary as if she was trying to snare him again, "I'm not saying this because I want something from you Logan, I don't. I don't want to be '_involved_' with anyone, I'm not ready for that yet, I can't trust anyone with me or my baggage, and believe me it's not just a single case."

"Then what do you want?" Logan was wary and Heather understood his reluctance to believe her words, if she'd been through what he'd been through then she'd make her mother look sane.  
"I just want you to know you've got a _friend_ here Logan, someone you can moan to when you need to, someone you can _talk_ to if you want to or just someone to sit with when you don't feel like being alone in there." Her hand waved toward his own apartment down the hall, Heather dropped her gaze outside the room down to the railyard. "I know what it's like to have no-one Logan, no matter how close people get I still keep them out of '_me_' because I'm afraid if I let them in they'll hate me and not understand what's underneath the scars on my arms." Turning Heather pinned him with her gaze to the sofa, "You know you're the _first_ person here I've told _everything_ to? That night in your apartment when you asked me to tell you about them, it's the first time in years I've told anyone the whole story, every sordid little detail and mistakes I've made."  
"Why? Why me?"  
The answer burned her throat raw as she spoke it out loud, knowing it to be the real reason why she'd done so much for him while he'd been away, "Because you _asked_ me, when you were in pain you thought about '_me_', not yourself. An' if that makes you an evil person for trying to find out _why_ they did what they did to you, then I _have_ to disagree with you. Because if you were, you'd _never_ have asked me why and I never would've told you, I'd have left you to it. You'd be dead and I'd be probably a few months behind you, I don't have a good track record with suicide's."

This was the most open Heather had been since she'd gotten here, since she'd stepped off the plane into the sunlight of the different world she found herself in. Heather was hurting and she didn't know why, she'd unloaded everything her mind had been thinking ever since Logan had run that day. Heather needed to know it wasn't _her_ fault he'd run away from his home, that it wasn't really her he'd run _from_, her eyes were dimmed and blurred as she faced him again. Knowing Logan was looking at her by the weight of his stare on her skin, "You didn't leave because of me did you? You didn't run because of me and what I'd created did you? Because if you _did,_ I don't think I could _stand_ it. I don't want to be like everyone else that hurt you Logan because I'm not and what you _think_ of me, _matters_ to me, god knows why but it does. Maybe because we're alike in some way, both of us hurting and paying for things we had no control over, you over your lost life and me over my illness. You gave me something to live _for_ when there was nothing else around worth clinging to, I wanted to make things right between us, one stranger to another. A stranger hoping to be a friend."

Logan sat there stunned looking at the woman who'd just broken herself wide open for him to look at, that she thought she'd driven him away when he'd run from the memory of the sorrow that had been opened up in him by the pictures he'd found. Knowing they should mean something to him but not having the sense to fill in the gaps, so he did what he always did, he'd run. Yet Heather was blaming herself for his action, his decision to run had been his own, when he'd taken the comfort she'd offered him that morning she'd gotten under his skin. Just the touch of someone else on his skin, someone who'd seen his mutation at work, seen the damage he could bring on himself and others and she _still_ went to him, _still_ reached out and _touched_ him, held him without judging him. Seeing him as a human being worth knowing, not an animal to be feared.

Heather had worked hard on the apartment, knowing she must have spent hours sanding the floors, the waxing of the wood and the plastering and painting of the walls. The album was extensive, listing everything he'd ever want to know, showing him every piece of work she'd done, along with the date started and finished. She'd even spent Christmas day painting his bathroom, but then her words made sense to him. Christmas was a time for family and for friends, the people here were friendly to her but when it was Christmas everyone went to visit family and Heather had no-one. She'd used his apartment to get her through the hard time she'd had, _that_ was how he'd helped her and now she was returning the favour giving him someone he could just '_be_' with. She was asking for nothing but a connection, someone who would notice her as they passed on the stairs or sat and had coffee sometimes. A friend in the city, in a place he could call '_home_'.

Logan liked what Heather had done with the place, it was well worn, used, _homely_, she'd even bought him beer and stacked it under the sink for him. The selection had made his mind reel, she'd found things he'd thought had gone out of business. The date she'd completed it had only been three months ago but she'd put '_A little something for your_ _homecoming_' on the bottom of each bottle. Logan knew she'd been in there regularly because her scent was in the fabric of the place, her sweat and blood were still in the wood in places and in a way it made him feel safe. That there was someone else who knew he existed and cared enough to do things like this for him, that's why when she'd told him it had been at the request of Herb his head had dropped a little. Yet she'd put his fears to rest when Heather told him how much she'd enjoyed it, telling him she cared for him as another human being.

When Logan had seen the bed and sat on it, that had been the decider, the whole thing just let him sink into it but it supported him where he needed it to. The first night's sleep he'd had on it had been so deep he didn't dream, he'd just slept and Logan had cried silently sat on the edge of the bed for an hour the next morning. Not realising how much he'd missed the relief of just blacking out to deep sleep without being disturbed by nightmares. He'd gone straight to the album and found the delivery picture of the bed, Herb struggling with the metal posts and Heather coming up behind him with the mattress with someone else. Her face was flushed and red in the next picture where she was putting the frame together, the final picture was of her laid on the completed bed, the caption underneath reading '_Finished at last! Only four hours and ten pounds lighter, enjoy it. Heather._' He knew that this had cost someone a pretty penny but he didn't want to ask her how she'd paid for it or even if she had.

At the moment she was waiting to hear if she'd been the reason he'd run away, if Heather had been the problem when it hadn't been her, it had been everything she'd opened up for him. In a way it had been her but if she hadn't Logan wouldn't have found what he'd found and he wouldn't feel as free as he did right now. He sensed Heather withdrawing inside herself, building the wall to hide behind again. To lock off her feelings so she didn't hurt anyone around her like she thought she had with him, her own urge to reach out to him had been the thing that had made him watch her in the first place. When Heather had asked about the bruises on his hands when she'd come to collect her key from him nearly a year ago, asking if he'd needed a doctor, if he'd needed _caring_ for. She'd done nothing but reach out and asked for nothing but the answer to her question now, clearing his throat Logan reached out to her face, the softness of her skin an exact opposite of her hands. "No it wasn't you, it wasn't anything you did. It was me, all of it." Logan watched as her face collapsed in on itself, as the whisper of her words blew across his ears, "Thank god, I didn't hurt you. I don't think I could look at you again if I had."

Snapping his own reserve Logan pulled Heather to him, almost crushing her to his chest as he just held her. Her own arms snaking around his back and holding onto him tightly, her face buried in his shirt, they'd both taken a risk in someone, a friendship based on truth, of the insides of each other. This was dangerous and he knew it, there might be others out there he didn't know about and he didn't want to have anyone else on his conscience if she ended up dead. Yet she was like him, Heather had been scarred by the world, lost in the tidal flow of depression, the ups and downs of the darkness that no one else can or could understand unless they're feeling it with you. Feeling her breath settle and her arms beginning to let go of him Logan settled back onto the sofa, decision made he'd take this one step at a time.

_Chapter Seven_

September rolled around, the cool breezes were flowing through the building and Heather was quite happy for once. She'd gotten some of her work in a small gallery thanks to Stewart and his company, only two pieces but it mattered to her. Work was getting busy now, the other building needed a lot of work doing on it and using contractors she had to be there before they started work and had to lock them out at night. The first two floors were remodelled completely, the tenants were back in and were happy with the improvements. Marty was going to spend a few weeks with her family down in Florida but she hadn't spent much time with her lately. Work on the building was taking over her life and now she realised why Herb had been so strict with the things he'd taught her. Dates and times had to be adhered to because without a schedule things fell apart, quickly.

Heather had just got home from the building and all she wanted was a shower and a few bites to eat and a good rest, she'd just dropped her bag in the chair and was heading for the shower when she heard the knock on her door. Sighing she went back to the door and opened it expecting it to be a tenant with a problem or a load of washing, she still did little bits and pieces for the tenants that needed her. She didn't drop her responsibilities just because she was working in a different building for a wage now.  
Opening the door she came face to face with Logan, a dark jacket slung over his shoulder and a white shirt on, even his trousers were different, no jeans this time and even shoes, not boots! He looked at her with a shy smile and she waved him inside, her hand instinctually going to her own hair and realising it was plastered to her head. "I need your help," his voice was unsure and trembling slightly, she'd never heard him so nervous.

Over the last four months they'd become friends, Logan had come to see her when he wanted to just sit with someone. She'd fed him while he'd been with her, just setting out two plates without being asked, it wasn't anything but company for either of them. She knew he saw women, he just didn't bring them home with him, she did find out the question Marty had asked her about his laundry. The answer was he didn't have any, he had no underwear to speak of and when she'd told Marty she'd laughed long and loud telling her to get herself in there, she was doing everything a wife did except from bed him. Heather didn't want that from him, she liked him as a friend only, it made her feel safer that way. She still had problems with letting people through into her mind and her emotions, Logan was all she could take, he spoke when he felt like it but there had been nights when all he'd done was sit there taking up space until he'd gone home again.

Sometimes she went to his and those times were different, she saw a different side to him there, he was more open to her inside his own home. He'd even bought new things to put in it, she even had her own mug there, he'd surprised her with it one day. It was a celtic pattern and she knew it meant something like an apology to her for accusing her of trying to hurt him when she hadn't known what he was talking about. He'd read the paper as she read or drew in her pad, the view out of his window never failed to inspire her. She'd caught him watching her sometimes and it had made her wonder what he was thinking. She'd asked him once or twice but he hadn't answered her, he'd just ignored the words and gone back to reading, so she'd put it out of her mind.

Here he was all nerves and dressed to the nines, "Where are you off to?" He looked at her with an almost comic desperation in his eyes and licked his dry lips before he spoke to her.  
"I need you to come with me," his words took her back for a moment until she noticed how nervous he was, he was twitching in his suit his hands clenching and relaxing knowing he was trying to keep his blades from springing free. Looking at his hands Heather just spoke to him.  
"If it's going to relax you, just pop 'em," Logan looked at her with relief and his blades snapped free. The tension gathered in his shoulders slowly drained through his hands, dripping from the end of his blades. Logan's gaze met her own after he'd calmed down a little, what she saw made her worry and her hand reached out to his shoulder feeling him shudder at her touch. "What's going on Logan? What's got you so worried?" He pulled out an invitation, it was gilt edged and the card was heavy, the writing on it read '_Evening Fundraiser Ball at Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters, Black Tie Event, 9pm_'. His hand gave her the envelope it had come in, it was the name on the front that made her sit up and notice, '_James Logan_'. Someone knew him and this Xavier might hold some answers for him, if he did it was something he _had_ to follow up but it could be a trap too. Heather knew why he was torn, if he went alone he might not come back, if he took her she could at least stay by his side and she was human, less chance of someone doing something with a witness. "You want me to come with you?" Her words seemed to take all the tension out of his gaze, replacing it with doubt.  
"I mean if you don't have anything else you'd rather do?" She knew he was risking a lot by asking her to come with him, Logan was showing his vulnerability, his fear of going alone. She wouldn't, couldn't let him face this like this, even if it was a trap she doubted it but she wanted to go with him.  
"Give me a few minutes to get a shower, I don't know if I've got anything to go in but I'll go with you even if I have to go in jeans." She saw the relief enter his frame and he headed to the closet where the rest of the boxes were, the ones she hadn't emptied yet. He knew there were some dress clothes in there and Heather wondered what he'd pull out, maybe he was looking for a better jacket.

It took her five minutes to get showered and dry, her hair was still wet when she came out of the bathroom to see a black dress laid over her bed. The long sleeved dress was elegant but light, it's style was something of a mystery to her but it looked as if it had been around for a while. Plucking it up off the bed she heard Logan moving around in the room on the other side of the door replacing boxes in the closet. Holding it upto her body she could see the way it would hang off her, hugging her in places and flattering her in others. Dropping it back onto the bed she got ready, wondering exactly what was waiting for them in Westchester.

When Heather had come out the look in Logan's eye had been priceless, she didn't dress up, didn't do the whole make-up thing at all so when she came out she wondered if she'd gotten it all wrong until she'd seen a glaze come over his dark eyes. "How do I look? Think I'll pass?" He'd just nodded and gone to the door, she'd picked up her usual bag and thrown her keys in, wondering what was in front of them both. She felt uncomfortable in the dress, it wasn't what she was used to and her pumps were heeled something she thought she'd never use again but they matched, just. Logan shrugged on his jacket and put the invite in his pocket, locking her door and testing it they went out to the street. Logan's hand flagging a cab down and getting one on the second attempt, giving the address over to the cabby they both settled down for the long drive. Heather wondered if Logan would have enough money to pay for it because all she had was fifty dollars and change in her bag. As they left the city Logan's hand snaked out and grabbed her own, his fingers twining round hers and gripping them tightly. His face was turned to the window of cab watching the world pass by but Heather knew he was nervous and her own hands wrapped around the one holding hers, her voice whispering "I won't let them hurt you Logan, I promise." He squeezed her hand a little tighter after that, letting her know he heard her, thing was if someone wanted to hurt him she didn't know how she could help. She didn't have any powers like the mutants she knew, all she could do was tell someone and wait for him to come home, keep a place for him in the building, keep his home welcoming for him and maybe that was what he needed her to do. To be there, to know he existed as a person, not a thing, not a mutant, just a human being like her. Heather's own nerves were beginning to show a little but she squashed them quickly, Logan needed her to be level headed and calm and she would be. It was only a party, she could do it, she dealt with contractors all day, she'd deal with people who gave money away for fun.

The mansion was huge, the cab had pulled up to the large front doors and Logan paid the cabby before stepping out, making sure she was behind him. The line of people who were entering the large house were very well dressed and both of them looked a little out of place but Logan took her arm and draped it over his. Giving her a quick look which she nodded her assent to they both walked upto the steps and whatever lay behind the front doors.  
Their invitation was taken and they followed the flow of people into a large ballroom, people were mingling around, talking sharing stories and Heather felt Logan tense up. There were too many people and not enough way's out, understanding without being told Heather guided them both across the ballroom to the open patio doors. There they were a little safer, they had an escape route, even if it was onto the grounds of the place. When they made it outside Logan relaxed a little but not enough to make a difference in his stance, he made a show of pulling her into his arms and she knew something was wrong. "We're being watched, smile and nod okay?" Logan pulled away and Heather did as she was asked, keeping her own fears tamped down. This had been a bad idea but Logan had needed to know who and why this Xavier had contacted him but as soon as they knew what it was about they were out of there.

Waiters moved around the crowd and Heather found herself yearning for a drink but she kept to soda water, her eyes watching the crowd that pulsed out of the ballroom at times. Watching the ebb and flow and she caught the couple watching them again, they were trying to be inconspicuous yet they kept looking at her. They noticed Logan and seemed to agree about something together but her they weren't sure of and she was glad she'd come with Logan now. There was something about them both she didn't like, a gut feeling she knew to trust, Heather found herself reaching out for Logan's hand when the red headed woman began to walk toward them both.

Logan didn't like it here, too many people, too many noises, he couldn't distinguish enemy from friend here and Heather had been trying to keep her nerves quiet but he could sense her distress at being here. Maybe it had been a bad idea to bring her with him, she shouldn't be dragged into this part of his life, he was dangerous, people had tried to kill him before, what if this was just a better set up? Logan was mulling over this question when Heather grabbed his hand and squeezed tight, looking at her face he saw her eyes locked onto a red head who was walking through the crowd toward them, her face all smiles and a confidence in her step that made his groin twitch. She was the type of woman he'd dreamed about bedding, someone who was all fire when you were alone with her, but the grip on his hand told him Heather was nervous about her. He hadn't been watching the same place she had so there might be something wrong with her, he had faith in Heather, Logan trusted her in some things and his welfare was one of them.

"Hello, you must be Logan," her offered hand was manicured, nails painted a deep red to match her dress. Logan didn't let go of Heather, he just looked through her as her hand dropped to her side and a nervousness entered her scent. "There's someone who'd like to meet you, Charles Xavier, the gentleman who sent you an invitation. He'd like to meet you in his office privately." The red heads gaze took in Heather and Logan didn't like the look she had in her eye, as if she viewed Heather as a threat and Logan felt himself bristle as her eyes dragged over his friend. Logan changed his grip on Heather, so his arm was now wrapped around her waist and he felt Heather gasp as he did it, making it clear to the red head that wherever he went Heather was coming along too.

His voice was low when he answered the red head, "Sure, I want to know how he knows me and also where I _live_." The last part was growled out and Logan slid a small piece of claw free, the light catching the blade and reflecting in her eye. Her tone became colder as she noticed the blade and her scent shifted to nervous terror as Logan waited for her to move ahead of them, "If you'd be so kind as to follow me." She then turned her back and led them both through the smiling happy crowd of party goers, Logan's eyes locked onto her back but Heather was watching everyone else. Heather saw the partner to the woman watching them leave the ballroom his tinted glasses making it hard for her to be sure. Logan's grip on her waist made her feel a little more secure as they were led back into the house and into a maze of corridors, knowing she'd find it hard to get back out without a few wrong turns. The red head stopped outside what looked like a wall and knocked on it, a polite cultured voice answered, "Come in."

Logan waited with his arm still wrapped around Heather he wasn't opening the door to the trap if one lay behind the door, the red head finally opened the door and stepped away. She left them stood in the corridor alone as her footsteps faded back into the noise of the party, the voice called out to the both of them again. "Please come in both of you, I assure you it's quite safe, I'm not going to harm you." Heather looked up at her friend seeing the tension almost dripping from his skin, she hugged him to her and moved them both over the threshold of the office door.

Inside the office the tone of the whole room just screamed money and _old_ money at that, the man seated behind the desk looked familiar to Heather and she knew she'd seen him somewhere. Logan was still on edge as they found a seat together, his hand still gripping hers tightly as he watched the man seated in front of them. His patriarchal bearing meant to make them both feel secure but it didn't, it just made them more nervous, as if they were children to be reprimanded and he changed his tack. Coming out from behind the desk, they both saw he was wheelchair bound and Logan's breathing calmed a little and her own thoughts calmed too. Smiling the man began, "Let me introduce myself, I'm Charles Xavier and you're in my school for the gifted, for mutants." Logan's hand tightened again but he kept his face neutral as he answered Xavier.  
"How do you know me?" The calm grey eyed gaze fell onto Logan's own and he felt the brush of something go over his mind trying to calm his thoughts. Snarling Logan almost jumped up out of his seat, his voice almost shouting into the calm of the room, "STAY OUT OF MY HEAD!" Heather took in the scene in front of her, Logan looked as if he was about to kill the man in front of him, Xavier must have done something to him that Heather couldn't see or fathom. His muscle humming with unresolved tension the grip on her hand painful, wincing she moved with him standing up next to his half-erect body.  
"Logan," he didn't look at her he was lost to the invasion of his mind until she touched his face making him see her. "Logan, don't let him provoke you. You have a _choice_ now." Heather turned her gaze to the man seated in the wheelchair, he looked harmless but so did a landmine till you stood on it. Logan looked at Heather, her eyes were blazing and she wanted to leave, now. Whatever the Xavier had done to Logan had hurt him and she wasn't going to let that happen any more this evening.

Standing Logan looked at the man in front of him, the eyes held a power that Logan was only beginning to comprehend, that he'd been brought here for a reason other than his own past. Relaxing his grip on Heather's hand he looked at her quickly, her own face was pale and her scent filled with anxiety, turning back to the man seated in front of them Logan spoke.  
"If you _ever_ do that to me again, I'll make sure you _never_ get another breath," Logan fired the claws on his left hand to emphasise his point and Heather held his arm tight pulling him toward the still open door. "Come on Logan, we need to leave. Now!"

They both made for the door and left at a jog, Logan guided them both back to the front doors, this whole thing felt like a trap to them both. Getting to the outside of the mansion into the group of guests waiting for their cars to come around, a dark skinned beauty with white hair stood near them. Her hands were holding a small file and she looked around her patiently as the guests came and went, just as a cab came free Logan waved it toward him. "Come on Heather, we're getting out of here," as soon as her name left his lips the black skinned beauty dropped the file into Heather's open bag with the skill of a thief, quickly losing herself in the crowd of waiting people. Logan bundled her into a cab crowding her back, making sure they weren't followed by staring out of the back window all the way back to the city.

They even changed cabs twice, before they eventually got home, the file tucked into her bag and not being noticed until Heather reached for her keys just outside her door. Logan was a mess, he needed to calm down but Heather didn't know what to do for him, if Logan needed to blow off steam he'd just go out, get drunk, fight and spend the night with a few women. Heather had never seen him so wound, especially when she pulled out the file from her bag, "Logan!" Her own eyes widening when she read the name on the file, it was Logan's name along with a code name next to it '_Wolverine_'.

Logan knew it had been a mistake to go but he'd had to know what the man knew about him, if he knew any more than he himself had put together from the pieces of his mind. On the road he'd heard of Xavier and his Institute, the way his people turned up dressed in leather and gave you a '_choice_' to join them and come live with them. Now he'd seen the place he couldn't blame some of them for joining up but it still made his nerves itch, as if the whole place was nothing but a recruitment centre for an army, a mutant army. Heather had done well to get him out of there without killing someone, when Xavier had gone into his head he'd felt the darker half of him surface and he'd struggled to keep control.  
Now here they were stood outside Heather's apartment with a file with his name on and Logan felt the fear of the unknown running through his blood turning it to ice. Slowly his hand reached out for it but Heather moved first, opening the door wide and pulling him through it with her, her own face pale and drawn.

"Come on Logan let see what we were given," locking the apartment door behind them she flopped onto her sofa half pulling him with her. The small file wasn't very bulky but it held quite a few pages, the first few were old war office memo's describing a Canadian soldier '_James Logan_' and the rumours that had been around him in several battles. That men had seen him shot in the chest and body only to see him get up and carry on fighting, one corporal had seen Logan take a bayonet to the lung only to pull it out and use it on the man who'd injured him. When the medic had gotten to him there was no wound, only the corporal had seen the blade come out of Logan's back and he had the tears in his uniform to prove it.  
The pages described more incidents right upto the end of the war, '_Top Secret_' was marked in red on several pages which outlined incursion missions and sabotage raids successfully done. Each one was code named '_Wolverine_' with a number by the side of it, they didn't have all of them but the highest number they had was 64. Both of them were stunned into silence as more of the file revealed itself to their eyes, pictures captured on security camera's of Logan running naked through a maze of corridors. Blades out, snarling attacking guards dressed in deep forest green camouflage, each of the pictures capturing a moment of horror as the soldiers just fell away from his attack. On some of them he was wounded, blood pouring from his body but on the next in the series he was healed, all that was shown on Logan's face was rage and Heather understood exactly what these were. This had been the place that had made him into what he was, that had taken his mind away, that had destroyed what life he'd had.

Next to her Logan was barely breathing when he looked at the pictures, all colour draining from his skin, suddenly he just got up and ran for the bathroom. Leaving everything behind her on the sofa Heather followed him, he didn't have much of a good history with bathrooms and her. Logan was retching over the bowl of the sink, his face pale and sweat beading on his skin, Heather just reached out to him and felt him shrink under her touch, trying to get away from her. She just wrapped herself around him like she had before, "It's okay Logan, it's okay. I'm _not_ afraid of you, you've _never_ given me any reason to and I doubt you will now. It's just the shock you know, seeing it in black and white." Logan lifted his head and the look he gave the mirror made her stop speaking, his grey coloured skin recovering as she shifted around him.  
"You ought to try seeing it in colour," the words weren't lost on her, Heather had seen and heard his nightmares more than once. Once she'd tried to wake him and he'd come up swinging claws out and she'd just managed to step back in time. After that she'd been careful to wake him from across the room or behind his head, he tended to swing forward not behind him. He always apologised afterward but he'd never told her what the dreams were about, now she knew and she paled herself.  
"Those _pictures_ are what you _dream_ about?" Logan ran water down the sink to clear what he'd brought up, trying to clear the images from his mind as well as the sink. He didn't want to answer her because if he did Logan knew she'd react differently to him, knowing someone had killed wasn't the same as seeing the proof in front of you in black and white. He didn't meet his reflections gaze, didn't want to admit that he'd come to rely on Heather's friendship but he'd gotten her into this and he'd have to pay the price of it.

Heather was waiting for his eyes to meet hers and Logan struggled to lift his gaze, not wanting to see the hatred for him grow in them, to see her cut him away from her. When he did meet her eyes, there were tears standing in them and she was waiting for an answer.  
He'd always avoided the question before, now he couldn't and Logan knew things between them would never be the same after he answered her.  
"No, not just that. The implantation too, just because I heal up fine, doesn't mean I can't _feel_ it. Although they never gave it much thought." His hands were still on the sink, gripping it tightly waiting for the inevitable, waiting for her to walk away from him in disgust.  
Heather didn't do anything but look at him, her eyes roaming all over him before locking back onto his own troubled gaze, her voice trembling as she pulled him back up and stepped into his arms. "Oh god Logan, why didn't you tell me they were that bad?" Her heart felt like it was breaking, he'd told her about it in clinical terms as if it had been a tooth being pulled out, but the details in the file weren't clinical.

They described tolerances, ranges of pain, drug regimens, bone tolerance levels to heat and nerve response. They knew what they were doing to him and it didn't matter to them that it pushed his body to the very limits of it's ability to heal, they wanted a _weapon_ they could control, even if he went mad from the pain. It made sense to her that his mind had shut down, run away from the whole thing, locking it up only for the subconscious to try and deal with it all. In his dreams Logan went through the whole thing time after time, each dream revealing more to his conscious mind, so he could deal with it all without going insane.

The things they did in the name of science, the things _doctors_ had done to him she almost laughed now at the memory of her first encounter with him. No wonder he'd been so afraid and defensive about her being around him, Logan noticed her small chuckle and pulled away a little to look at her with a question unspoken on his lips. "When I first met you, when I came for the key, I asked you if you needed a doctor, remember?" Logan nodded as he thought about their first meeting nearly a year ago.  
"Yeah I remember, just got back from a cage match down town." Heather could see him trying to work out what she was getting at, she helped him out.  
"I asked if you needed help, thing is the last thing you needed was _another_ doctor," the light finally going on in his head Logan gave her a small grin before hugging her again.  
"I know but _you_ didn't, you _cared_ enough to ask me when everyone else didn't give a damn, not even me." His words made Heather's arms tighten a little around his chest, showing him she still cared about him, even after reading some of the file they'd been given at Xaviers.

A stray thought went through her mind and Heather pulled herself back out of Logan's embrace to ask him, "Logan you don't think the file could be fake do you? Could it be rubbish made up to spook you?" His head looked over to the pile of documents and photographs; he reached out to Heather's shoulder, when Logan looked at her again there was no doubt left in her. He knew what they contained was real, he'd lived through it and Heather felt herself shrink from even suggesting it had been false, "I'm sorry Logan I just had to ask, if this guy knows so much why hasn't he approached you before now?" Logan just shrugged and went back into the main room where he sat back down with the file and began looking through it again. Watching the way his eyes seemed to burn through the paper as if he was memorising every detail he could glean from the pages and pictures inside it. Logan's intensity was something that always surprised her, when he did something he did it a hundred and fifty percent. Seeing him settle in for the duration Heather switched on the coffee pot and took a quick look at the clock, one twelve am, she'd need to get some sleep soon but Logan needed some space and time to digest this stuff. Coming back out she coughed politely to get his attention, "Hey, Logan." His head moved but his eyes were locked onto a document, his face lost in concentration, "I have to go to bed but the coffee's on and help yourself to whatever's in the fridge if you get hungry. Just leave me some bread for the morning." Logan grunted something in reply and Heather knew he'd understood, she needed sleep and had a full day scheduled with the plasterer in the new building. She'd need to have her work head on and for that she needed sleep, "Night Logan, if you leave, make sure you lock the door after you okay?" This time she got a 'Sure no problem,' assured her apartment would at least be burglar proof if he left Heather settled into her night time routine. Sliding into the sheets after listening to Logan padding into the kitchen and the fridge door opening and closing. Sleep finally finding her with a smile on her lips, life may throw you a curve ball; it all depends on how fast you can throw it back.

_Chapter Eight_

The alarm was buzzing in her head and she didn't want to move, there was something heavy sat on her bed edge. The alarm stopped but a hand began to shake her shoulder, the grip strong and the scent of fresh coffee was tantalisingly close. Waking up to her bedroom curtains wide open, sunlight streaming through and Logan sat there with a mug of coffee in his hand. He didn't look very happy, at least not to her eyes at the moment, the thought of Logan being in her room didn't upset her in the least. He was a friend and only a friend, Heather had made that clear a while ago when Logan had asked her why she didn't date. Her answer had been quite simple, "I don't want to hurt anyone else, I'm not together and I'm not sure when I will be; so it's safer this way, for _all_ of us." Logan had just nodded as if he'd understood the undercurrent of her words, she wasn't ready and wouldn't be for a while yet not until she'd healed up, same as him.  
"Morning Logan," he handed her the warm coffee, "Thanks." Taking a good gulp she realised her mistake just after she'd swallowed it, Logan's idea of coffee was to put the entire ground bag through the filter and use only a pint of water to make it. It was like drinking a pint of espresso, and she fought to keep it in her stomach. Logan was watching her reaction with a sign of amusement as he stood up, leaving her to get ready for her day, Logan didn't leave the apartment and this gave her something to worry about. If he was okay he'd have gone by now back to his own apartment, he wanted to talk to her about something and it was important enough for him to make sure she was awake for it, either that or he was trying to poison her with caffeine.

After her shower Heather walked out in her robe to find toast, bacon, scrambled eggs and fresh bagels on the table, "Wow, you can stay more often if this is what I get in return." Seating herself on the opposite side of the laden table to Logan, Heather picked up some warm toast and got started. Logan already had a plate full and next to it was the file, her eyes met the plain brown cover as if it were a snake ready to bite them.  
"I'm going back," Heather stopped mid-chew, her eyes locked onto Logan's own. He was gauging her reaction to his idea and she slowly began chewing again.  
"Where are you '_going back_' to exactly?" Heather's own worries about his safety coming forward and colouring the air around them.  
"To the mansion, where this came _from_," Logan's hand dropped onto the file. Her eyes followed the movement before reaching back up to his warm hazel, "I want you to keep this here, hide it for me just in case I don't come back tonight."  
Heather went cold and the food in her mouth suddenly turned to ash, "What do you mean '_if_ _you don't come back_'?" Logan just picked up his knife and fork and looked at her.  
"What do you _think_ I mean? I'm going back there to find out how he got hold of this and who the hell this Charles Xavier is and what he wants with me. There was more to last night than a quick handshake and how are you."  
"You don't think I _know_ that?" Heather could feel herself beginning to argue with him, not a good idea when he had something as important as this to sort out. Putting down her toast she reached out over the food and touched his hand, "Look, I'm going to say this anyway but be careful. Not everyone out there has your best interests at heart, I'll go to the library later and see what I can find out about him on the net and in the papers. I've seen him before somewhere but for the life of me I can't figure out where." Heather squeezed his large hand before settling back to her breakfast, the man in front of her had overcome greater odds she had the proof in front of her but somehow this felt worse. The way Xavier had tried to touch his mind, was he psychic, could he do that? Heather knew a child who lived in the other building who could pick out a number just before it was drawn, a small gift but one that had helped her win a little red bike her mother couldn't afford. Heather felt justified in her fears for Logan, his mind was his own and she didn't like the thought of anyone being able to rummage around in it for pleasure. Seeing him calmly eating Heather risked a question, "What did he do to you last night that made you so angry Logan?"

He didn't answer her at first, just chewing the food in his mouth thoroughly then looking at her dead centre. Heather had never been under such scrutiny from his gaze before and she almost wilted under it, it was as if Logan was trying to judge her question, why she'd asked him and Heather felt her mouth about to try to explain why she'd asked him when Logan answered her.  
"He tried to keep me _calm_, he went inside my head without asking me first. It made me _angry_." There was a flash of darker colour that passed through his gaze as he spoke, something Heather had only seen when he'd come out of a nightmare. Something she understood was dangerous but Logan had never shown it to her, not purposefully.  
"You sure it's a good idea to go back then?" Logan didn't answer her this time and just picked up his plate taking it to the sink, Heather's eyes followed him round the small room pinning him with her gaze as he turned back around. "Okay, your big enough to look after yourself but do me a favour okay, check in with me after you come out of there. I want to know if your alright, even if it's just a phone call, would you do that for me, please?" It was the first time she'd ever asked something like this from him, she usually didn't worry about him being hurt. Hell he fought in cages for a living, yet this felt different and Heather knew to follow her instincts where Logan was concerned, the look in his eyes softened a little when she didn't look away from his own. Logan walked back to the chair with a full mug of coffee and sat opposite her before answering, even then it was reluctantly.  
"Okay, if it'll stop you worrying," her smile almost made them both forget about the file on the table and what it held inside. Heather knew Logan had to find out more, it was something he'd been hoping for, searching for and someone he didn't know had just handed it to him, there had to be a catch and hopefully it'd be one he could handle.

The afternoon went quickly, the plasterer was gone and Heather had a little time to sit and look over the drawings that had been made for the decoration of the hallway's on this floor. A light beige woodwork with gold accents, deep ruby for the bottom half and a clotted cream for the top, plus an off-white ceiling with golden light fittings to match the woodwork. She was on her way home when the sound of arguments reached her ears, going down the stairs quickly she found the source of the trouble. It was Marty, her poodle had attacked a small boston terrier and she was trying to ask the man who's dog it was where she was in the building. Butting in she touched Marty on the shoulder to see her turn and the look of relief on her face was one that sent shivers straight through her. "Oh thank god your alright! Have you seen the news?" Marty was distraught and she just pulled her away from the man and his terrier, her own poodle now back in her arms.  
"Marty what's going on?"  
The older woman didn't answer her she just pulled Heather to the corner of the street, showing her the large tv screen in the window of the small store. The mansion she'd been to last night was being photographed from above, people were everywhere, children crying and being tended to. Fire was being fought in several places, suddenly the scene changed to a photo-fit picture of Logan, the ticker tape underneath reading that he was wanted on charges of attempted murder, affray, assault, breaking and entering. She didn't even give Marty a second glance but went inside the small store and turned up the sound, the news caster was asking people to phone the police before they tried to detain this dangerous mutant themselves. A reward was already being offered for his capture, $15,000. Heather's hand went to her mouth as she listened to the report of his attack, that Logan had entered the mansion armed and shot two staff members. Then he went on to rob the safe, attacking and knocking several people unconscious, he then left on a stolen motorcycle and the police have been searching for him since.

Marty was at her side, her hand making her come back to herself, she looked at the older woman and she saw the light of fear in her eyes and it made her angry. "You think he did this don't you?" Marty was about to answer her when Heather just pointed at the screen and her voice shook with the anger she felt. "Last night, he was so afraid to even go near those people that he asked me to go _with_ him, whatever happened there was their own fault. Logan would NEVER harm a child Marty, you KNOW that!" Marty pulled Heather out of the store and looked at the disturbed shopkeeper, her eyes making sure Heather understood exactly what she was saying to her.  
"I know that honey! But the man in there now knows you know him and that'll mean a visit from the police at least." Heather was suddenly aware of the things she'd just said, she'd just said out loud that she'd been there last night with Logan. The police would talk to her just on that account alone, "Oh God Marty... I've got to get _home_." She'd left the file in her bedroom, almost out of sight but not if they searched her apartment, which would look likely if they knew who she was. She hadn't seen any camera's but that didn't mean they weren't there, Marty just let her go as she ran back toward home, her heart racing at every single siren she heard.

Heather got back just in time to hide the folder inside a pile of other old papers in a box, making sure to split everything up just in case. She'd just gotten herself calmed down when the knock came to her door, opening it she saw the blue of a policeman's uniform. She invited them inside and they asked her a few questions about Logan, if she'd seen him today and if she had a '_relationship_' with him. Heather answered them honestly, yes she had a friendship with him but nothing else. A man in a cheap suit handed her a printed photograph of the two of them arriving at the mansion party last night, his voice sneering as he spoke. "We _know_ you were with him last night, we have you on security camera." Her eyes went dull as she saw the picture, Logan looked so tense and she'd been gripping his arm so tightly to give him some security to hold onto. When she finally looked back at the detective he had a filthy sneer plastered over his face, "Do you _like_ child killers? Is that it, do you both _get off _on the cruelty he creates?" Heather knew at that moment that whatever help she'd been going to give them had just gone out of the window. The man was a bigot and she wasn't going to give him anything he could use to hurt Logan any more than he already had done. The uniformed officer whispered '_Mutie-Lover_' and the detective laughed in his throat suddenly making her feel unclean. Gathering her strength Heather pinned both men with a stare, her anger beginning to hone itself in the room.  
"If you want to ask me anything else please don't hesitate to, I'm the supervisor for this building along with Herb Naderson." Both men suddenly caught the coldness coming from her and deciding to question the rest of the floor they left her apartment, before they left they asked her if she had a key for his room. The uniformed officer just smirked at the answer she gave, '_Yes_' she had a key, just like she did for every other room in the building. They told her they'd like to search it before they left, Heather knew the rights of her tenants and asked for a search warrant, the detective turned on her then his gaze flinty. "I thought you'd like to co-operate with us, seeing as he's a _dangerous_ mutant." Heather schooled her voice in reply.  
"That's yet to be proven officer, he's lived here longer than I have and there's _never_ been a complaint about him. A little anti-social but isn't everyone in a large city? I have to protect my job and the tenants rights, I need to see a search warrant before I let you in and I have to _watch_ you search." Both officers bristled and they turned back toward the stairs, before they left the uniformed officer licked his lips and blew her a sickening kiss.

When they were gone Heather waited until she couldn't hear them and went into Logan's room. Her hands worked quickly, she plucked everything she knew was important to him off shelves, off walls, she removed her mug, took the two albums she'd made. She shook dirty laundry everywhere to make it look like he'd be back soon, she even wet the toothbrush in the bathroom and moved the shower curtain. Grabbing his now empty laundry bag Heather shoved everything inside it and locked back up making sure to wipe the metal doorknob. Heather's ears heard someone coming back up the stairs, the yipping of a small doggy voice made her heart soar, she knew where to hide this stuff, Marty! She used her spare key to let herself into her friends apartment and waited inside holding the bag from Logan's room. When Marty came in her face was chalky with shock, she dropped her poodle and she noticed the feet stood in her kitchen. "You can come out honey; they've gone," Heather looked at the frail woman in front of her eyes, something had aged her in the short walk from the other building to here. Dropping the bag she took the older woman's arm, helping her to a chair. After a few minutes her breathing settled and Heather looked over at the dark blue laundry bag.  
"Marty, I need you to do me a favour," the old ladies eyes sparked at the words and she braved a smile.  
"Sure honey what can I do for you?" Heather motioned toward the dark blue bag and Marty knew who it belonged to.  
"I need you to hang onto this for me, there's some thing's in there that I don't think Logan would like people to go through," she was about to carry on when Marty shocked her into silence.  
"You _love_ him don't you?"  
The words knocked her back and Heather had to concentrate to pull her mind back together, she couldn't answer that right now, the police were coming back with a warrant and they'd look into her past as well now.  
"Marty he's my _friend_, nothing more." Marty just smiled getting up taking the bag from her kitchen floor, tucking it into her laundry space with her own bags.  
"Sure honey, that's why your risking being sent to jail, for _friendship_, not _**love**_." The tone was slightly mocking and it made Heather blush the longer she thought about it, the police had rubbed her up the wrong way and she'd seen the eagerness in their eyes to poke around in Logan's things. She didn't want them to know him, not like she did, that's why she'd hidden everything personal to him, everything that meant something. The file, she could hide the file here too, Heather went back to her own apartment and pulled the separated pieces back together and took it to Marty. Holding it out to her Heather spoke quickly and strongly to her.

"In here is what Logan found out last night about himself, what 'we' found out about him. You wondered why he was a loner, why he kept people at arms length, why he didn't speak to anyone. _This_ is the answer Marty, _this is_, this is _what_ they did to him because they _could_, because it was an _experiment_, something to see how far they could push him. Human doctors Marty, _humans_ did _this_ to him." She flicked open the file to the pictures of him laid on a gurney, strapped down his eyes telling of the fear he held for the white coated figures around him. His mouth wide open in a silent scream, his eyes reaching out of the picture to the older woman and she saw a moment of pain that Logan relived every day. "They did this to him and they'd want him _back_ if they _found_ him, they want to hurt him Marty, take their _weapon_ back and make it _work_. He went back to the school so he could find out how they knew so much about him, they had this waiting for him when we got there. I told him I was worried but he _had_ to go anyway, had to find out more, he didn't hurt the kids Marty. He _wouldn't_, I _know_ he _**wouldn't**_." Heather's voice was close to cracking now as she realised that they'd hunt him until he couldn't run anymore, track him and kill him if they had their way. The ache she had in her chest reached her throat and Heather let herself cry for him, he'd just built a home and Logan had to leave it again. The squawk of police radio's alerted her to people coming and she wiped her eyes as she calmed down, Marty just took the file from her and hid it in her sewing pattern drawer, becoming lost within a thousand other pieces of paper. Hugging her Heather went back out to meet the police, her mind doing cartwheels as she approached the new officers.

Three weeks, they took three weeks to search Logan's room thoroughly, they'd even brought in the F.B.I at one point to see if his home held any secrets about him. They only had what she'd left and it made her glad that she'd moved most of his personal things away from their cold gaze. The original charges had been dropped against him from the Institute but more charges had been levelled by the police, that's when the other men had arrived. Men with no badges and an odd air about them, their haircuts too severe to be normal, dressed in ill fitting suits that didn't hide the weapons they were carrying. All the time they were there Heather hoped Logan would stay away, keep off the radar and himself safe. Wishing there was a way she could tell him she'd kept the police running round in circles. Heather had been dragged in of course, questioned and kept overnight but she kept her own council. She'd told them that Logan had asked her to go to the function with him, that he'd been invited and as such they should question this Xavier about why he wanted to see Logan in the first place. All she'd done was be a friend and had gone with him, now they were accusing him of hurting people something she knew Logan wouldn't do without provocation.

When the men who were obviously soldiers had gone from questioning her yet again, she locked up Logan's room and walked back to her own apartment, her nerves were shot and she needed a rest. But life went on, Marty had kept everything hidden from the police, smiled, cooed and billed like an old pro. Feeding them lines about how Logan helped her with shopping and laundry when he could, building a picture of a man who was the opposite of the things others were telling them. Her own statement had backed up what Marty had said, he was a solid citizen, paid his rent, helped out in the building, she even went so far as to let them into her apartment to see the job he'd done on her windows.

The police were beginning to smell a rat and they investigated the information they'd been given in the first place. The general affray and manslaughter charges were dropped when it was revealed Logan had been fired on first, he'd been defending himself by running away. Tapes had been delivered by the Institute to show the truth, yet nothing was put on the television. The Public needed a bad guy and that was more often a mutant these days, much to Heather's disgust.  
Herb had given her a small key to the roof of the other building earlier and asked her to go check the water tank up there. The tank was a large box, one that was more than adequate for the buildings supply but they were thinking of pulling it down and going back to mains plumbing again. So now she was climbing the stairs to the roof, her mind on work not noticing the rubbish that had been piled up in a corner. Wrappers from fast food and beer bottles, opening the internal door with her key her mind not on Logan only the inspection Heather did a double take when she saw the small camp site inside the huge area. "What the hell?" The light in here was dim but she made out the small rumpled bed of blankets and clothing, her mind was screaming at her to go back and get some help when someone stepped out from behind a beam.  
Shock turned to joy as Heather recognised who it was, it was Logan! Shutting the door quickly and locking it she waited for him to come over, making sure her hands were visible and her movements slow. She'd read his file from cover to cover, unsure at how he'd react to having her in here with him she was just glad to see he was still alive. "Logan? It's Heather." He came closer, she could see his clothes were pretty disgusting and his skin was covered in dirt, he was sniffing the air around her and her mind went back to the file, memory forcing up the words she'd read.  
'_Wolverine tends to lock onto scent, a primal piece of his mutation we enhanced the area of his brain dealing with scent recognition to make tracking easier. In testing Wolverine could follow a target scent mixed into a particle strength of a hundred billion, instinct makes him follow the target until he finds it for the stimulus reward._' The file had detailed how they'd 'taught' him to react to the things they wanted him to, they put electrodes into his brain. Stimulating pleasure for reward and pain for bad behaviour, they'd controlled him like that for nearly five years until it had been hard-wired into his behaviour. Alone and cut off from everyone Heather hoped the '_training_' hadn't reverted itself as Logan got closer to her.

Her fears were abated when Logan just pulled her into a crushing hug, wrapping her arms around him the tears she'd been holding in finally came free. Nestling her head into his shoulder Heather felt his sigh come from his stomach and some tension loosen from his shoulders. When Logan finally let her move he took a good look at her, both of them checking the other, Heather spoke first. "How long have you been here?" Logan made to move away as if just realising he was filthy, Heather just grabbed him again and kept him close to her. She felt his resistance until he just relaxed into her grip on him, "A couple of months, I went north first, Canada." Heather nodded, it made sense to her that he'd just lose himself somewhere and stay safe.  
"But why did you come _back_? They could've caught you!" Her voice was high and she was disappointed in herself for questioning him but she'd been worried about him. Logan's face became clouded and his eyes dropped to the floor before coming back up to meet her own concerned gaze. He didn't have to say anything, Heather knew why he'd come back, _her_. He'd come back, put himself at risk for her and the weight of it hit her in the gut, her face showing her shock. "Oh god, Logan I'm so sorry. Oh Jesus, why didn't I just _leave_, you'd be _safe_ now if you hadn't come back." Logan saw her understand why he'd come back, he'd come to check on her, make sure she was okay, he'd found out some things about Xavier and his little group and Logan had needed to know that she was safe.  
"Heather," his voice was quiet and calm but her own mind was playing '_the blame game_' and she was putting herself in the main role, Logan could see it. Taking her arms tightly he pulled her round into more light making her see him before he lost her to the thoughts in her mind. "Heather, _listen_ to me. I had to be _sure_ you were okay, some of the people Xavier deals with aren't exactly nice, I had to make _sure_ you were _**safe**_." Tears were flowing freely now as she looked at him in the light, she wanted to scream at him, to tell him no matter what could've happened to her he should have kept away for his own safety. The words just wouldn't come out and Heather just put her face back into his shoulder and let herself feel the joy of knowing he was safe and alive.

They spent a couple of hours talking, her telling him about the searches and the investigation into Xavier being led by the F.B.I. The charges had been totally dropped, he knew that already and she figured it was Herb who'd put him up here. She owed Herb big time for trusting her with this, mind you Heather had often talked about Logan in the months they'd been working together. Wondering where he could be, what he was doing, if he was safe and if he'd ever come home. Herb had always told her that Logan would come home, he always did and this time would be no different.

Herb had given her hope, it's no hard thing to do when you knew that the person who was being missed was already here. She missed out on telling him the times she'd been in his apartment just wishing he could come home so they could just sit and talk together for a while. Now she had her chance and she'd use it, "Logan when are you coming home?" He stiffened and stood up from his crouch, his face becoming clouded, hiding his thoughts from her. "You _are_ coming home aren't you? I mean the apartment's still there, your personal things are still hidden at mine, I'll even decorate for you if you want."

When Logan looked back at her Heather's heart took a dive, she knew he wasn't coming home again, not after this, her feelings ran across her face as he moved away into the darkness. "Your not are you?" She could only see his shape now in the darkness as he walked further away, hearing the sound of his blades firing her fear upped a notch, "Logan?" There was no answer from the darkest corner of the large space, "LOGAN!" flinging all care for herself aside Heather ran into the darkness, her eyes searching for him. Her hands reaching out for him as she floundered in the darkness, tripping over the support beams that kept the metal structure sound. Hurt she fell next to a hole that had been cut into the metal, the only thing that distinguished it from the darkness inside was the sparkle of the city lights around the building. Logan had cut an entrance for himself and had gone somewhere, she didn't know where but she prayed that he'd come back safe.

The next week was torture for her, every sound she jumped at hoping it was Logan coming home. Herb had told her that Logan had been hiding in the basement here at first, he'd found him and given him his key to the other building, telling him where to go to. She'd thanked Herb and he'd just smiled and said something about a debt repaid.  
It was Thursday, in her front room with the window open and trying to finish a canvas, one that was filled with images she'd gleaned from books magazines and the internet. She'd called it '_Integration_', a piece supposedly about the human/mutant situation but it wasn't turning into that. A piece showing the picture of Logan with the words '_Dangerous do not_ _approach_' under it from a newspaper tucked in the left hand corner under a picture of a child with webbed fingers holding another child's hand, both children laughing and playing. She really wasn't in the mood to finish it but she had to, she wouldn't have time next week. So she just focussed on the work, her fingers moving pictures over the surface, pasting things over others until the look was finally achieved. Tired she moved away from the large canvas and almost walked into Logan who'd been sitting on her window sill, watching her from the window.

Shock filled her when she saw him, Logan was dressed in black, _entirely_ in black Heather's hand reached out to him and he lifted his own to meet hers. When they touched she let herself believe he was really there and laughed nervously, not trusting her throat to make any sound Heather just moved toward him. He stood and opened up for her to hold him close, to feel his warmth against her, his solidity, his reality. When Heather had calmed a little Logan let her move back a bit so he could see her better, her face was filled with love and care for him. He'd gone again and she was still here waiting for him, the picture on the easel he'd watched her create had shown her feelings. His picture was a key point in it, the way her hands had drifted down from it pulling the pictures in drifts scattering them around it's gaze, her own picture was in this one. One of her sat still reading under a tree, an air of melancholy around her, it's position the furthest away from his own on the canvas, the pictures in-between showing hands reaching out, laughter, joy, togetherness, children and families laughing as they played. This was about them, their friendship, their connection and he didn't even know if she saw it herself but _he_ did.

Sitting down with her on the sofa under the mural Logan let her rest herself against him, her tears smelling of salt as she finally spoke, "Your leaving aren't you?" She deserved the truth, after all she'd done for him it was what Heather needed to hear from him.  
"Yeah, I won't be coming back." Heather nodded in agreement, she'd felt it when he'd gone out of the water tank, her tears began again and she didn't try to stem them.  
"It's because of _me_ isn't it, I'm too much of a _risk_ aren't I?" She moved to look him in the eye, her own strength showing through as she revealed her heart to him in her eyes. Logan didn't answer her this time, he just nodded and pulled her back into his embrace, his whisper into her hair making her wish he'd just left without telling her what she knew already.  
"Yeah, I'm too dangerous to be around for long. I'd get you _hurt_ and I don't want that for you." There were so many things left unsaid by words but his actions told her everything he couldn't, the way Logan held her to him, the touch on her arm, the sound of him breathing her in as if he was remembering everything he could about her. Writing her to his memory so he wouldn't forget her, they spent what seemed like hours just sitting wrapped up together, each clinging onto the other.

When Logan finally moved to go, Heather got up and went to her bedroom, bringing out his things for him. They were in a duffel bag all ready for him to take, she'd put everything in there, all except her mug which she used every morning. "What do you want me to do with everything else?" She was trying not to cry, not to hurt him any more than this already was, Logan took the duffel from her and held Heather to him one last time. Before he let her go she whispered into his shirt, "Be _careful_ out there Logan, I…" she didn't finish her words, it wasn't right for her to put that burden on him and she knew it. Lifting her head away she locked eyes with him, the warmth in his own gaze made her heart sing, he _knew_, she didn't have to say it, he knew, he'd _always_ known.  
His rough fingers touched her cheek, bringing Heather's face to his Logan kissed her softly before resting his head on hers, closing his eyes to remember before pulling away and leaving her stood alone in her apartment. A weight lifted from her heart but burdening her soul with something that would never be forgotten, she'd loved him but it wasn't enough, she wasn't enough and she doubted any woman would be. There had been only one and she'd died in a fire in the very same building they'd both lived in. Turning to her picture Heather put it away and tidied up the rest of her things, she had a room to box up tomorrow and that'd take some doing.

_EPILOGUE _

The gallery was one of the highlights of The Village, her work was displayed everywhere, even a copy of the mural that was hung in the Mutant Affairs building was here. It dominated one entire wall, the pictures of the protestors made up of file pictures and numbers from the old files of the government and the army being made up of the faces of the nazi army from world war two in black and white. It's whole message a reminder of how close everyone came to repeating the same history, the same hatred, the same pain.

Heather watched the great and the good wander around the exhibition and she kept to a small side gallery, her most personal work was here, the ones that meant a lot to her. Several had stickers on showing they'd already been sold and she deciding to have a look at which ones had been bought Heather went round. Several from her New York period had been sold but her personal collection had been displayed with '_Not for Sale_' underneath them. It made her happy to be able to show her work, the Trust had bought more buildings because of her, giving homes to both mutant and human who needed a place to heal, to become part of a community.

She entered the inner sanctum of her work and her eye was drawn to her favourite picture, the one she'd been working on the night Logan had left. Her eyes caressing the canvas she loved the simple flow of her early work, the images pulling a sense of feeling out of her. As she finally finished looking it over for damage she noticed the small red sticker proclaiming it's '_sold_' status. Shock filled her veins, anger wasn't far behind it and she wanted to go and drag the damn gallery owner over here to explain what the hell he was thinking. She didn't do it though, she just let herself calm down and waited until the end of the show, that's when the buyers would come for the work. It was all she could do to be civil the rest of the night, but she managed it, barely.

Two am rolled around and the buyer still hadn't shown, the owner of the gallery was upset with her because of the assumption that it had been his error when it had been her own. She hadn't listed her own favourite on the '_do not sell_' list, it was her own fault and so she was waiting for the buyer to come and collect it. They'd just been on the phone and were on their way down to pick it up, cash payment though and the price tag would buy another few apartments. But it meant more to her than that, it was her one last link to Logan and she wasn't going to give it up for anyone.  
The car that pulled upto the curb was an expensive two seater, the man that got out was well dressed and moved with grace, it was only when he came into the light that her heart nearly stopped. His face hadn't changed, neither had the smile that was on his lips or the smooth way that he moved over the pavement into the gallery. The owner of the gallery was speaking but the man ignored him completely and just walked upto Heather, his eyes locked onto her own. He didn't even speak to her, just held up his hand to her face and cradled her lined cheek in his palm.

Heather's knees almost gave out when he touched her, the same scent of him filled her nose and she felt young again, twenty years had gone by but he was still the same. Still handsome, still vibrant, still alive, still alone, tears ran down her face as she turned to the confused gallery owner and apologised to him. Telling him it was okay that the painting was this customers after all, he'd asked her to do it for him as a commission. She was distraught because of the show and it had taken a toll on her memory, she apologised as Logan pulled out his wallet and counted out the large amount of money onto the counter. The painting was wrapped and handed to him, Heather pulled on her own coat and walked outside to look at the night.  
Twenty years, it had seemed so long a few moments before but now it was as if it had been only seconds since he'd kissed her goodbye that night. Hearing the door shut behind her she turned to see Logan with the painting in his hands, the lights went off behind them and it left them in darkness. Moving quietly Logan put the painting in the boot and opened the door for her in the passenger side, making sure she was secure he got in and drove away from the gallery.

He followed the route home, the one she still lived in, the one he'd spent time with her in, her home which had also been his once upon a time. They climbed the stairs together, quietly so not to disturb anyone else and Heather opened her front door. Her own mural was still there, faded but still visible under dust and age, Logan followed her inside, his steps light and his presence comforting. He put the picture down on the table in the small kitchen, his eyes taking in the things she moved back into her own space that once been in his, memories to keep of him when he was somewhere else. The mug he'd bought her was still there, chipped but still usable, he put on coffee as Heather took her coat off and sat down.

Silence reigned for a while as they drank coffee and just took the sight of each other in, he hadn't changed one bit but she'd aged, gracefully but she knew she was no longer young. Her body had widened and become comfortable, no children had ever been born to her but she was a little heavier than she should be. It made her feel like a teenager again having him here with her, now she looked like his older sister, someone he'd just come to visit. Logan finally broke the silence first, "I missed you." The words making her smile and cry at the same time, her own voice cracking at the sentiment he was giving her, the words not saying everything he was feeling but she knew him well enough to know what he wasn't saying.  
"I missed you too," her touch finding his hand and gripping it tightly, it wasn't much but he was here and she was grateful for it. Whatever came next would be a bonus, he was home, even if it was only for a little while.


End file.
